War Stories: Gallia
by itrytofight
Summary: Chapter 7: Before the Vegetable Ambush... 3rd Regiment takes a day off. The advisors run into familiar faces, Nadine is punched in the face, a new chaplain joins the regiment, and much more happens before they're set off into another mission.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note and Disclaimers:** Hey, this my second attempt at a big story… only that it's really a set of small stories set in a single world (trying to model after Tim O'Brian's "The Things We Carry"). With the little information I have on the recruits in the game (I don't have a PS3, just a FAQ site, a picture slash list of all the recruits in Japanese, and Wikipedia); I've managed to carve out a sort of world combining two different stories into one in an unexplained way.

Oh yeah, I don't own "Valkyria Chronicles" nor do I own "Fallen Angels", a novel by Dean Myers. They belong to their respective owners.

**War Stories: Gallia**

**Chapter 1**

**From Nam to Gallia**

A long column of olive drab colored tanks, trucks, jeeps, armored personnel carriers and other assorted vehicles paraded through the city of Randgriz as soldiers began setting up checkpoints and command centers on various abandoned buildings. All of them have a star insignia upon them to identify them with the U.S. military.

Helicopters, aircraft lifted by horizontal rotor blades (as far as the citizens can figure) hovered across the sky carrying men inside their cabin bays and much needed equipment trough long ropes tied to the belly of the aircraft.

The people of Randgriz, a large European like city surrounded by tall, thick castle walls that happens to be the capital of the nation named Gallia, watches the mean, tired faces and bodies of the soldiers marching in, many of them are black… a race no one in this country has seen for some time. Green fatigues, green helmets, rifles, machine guns, packs, all the gear that U.S. infantry carry can be seen among the tired men walking the sides of the convoy.

The people of Randgriz don't know, but these men have been taken directly out of one war to be placed in another war, a war that's not even on the same planet as the other.

The civilian populace, wary of there new allies, watched as the convoy passed. They looked at the things which do not exist in their world, and the things that look more… advanced… then what they had.

The civilians wore clothes reminiscent of the 1940's which surprised many of the soldiers passing through.

The bright blue skies, the sunny day, no clouds, and a cool wind, all accompany them, this army and the people of Randgriz, in the capital of Gallia, the nation already at war with a empire; but the people are still distrustful due to the fact that there nation was all neutral to outside matters, and the soldiers coming to their rescue… they had enough of hell that is Nam and want nothing to do with this war.

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"This is nothing like Nam," Richie Perry stated, a black seventeen year old who, before going to Nam, originally thought that the war would be over before he fires a gun. During basic training he also injured his leg, which should have exempted him from combat.

Thanks to a paperwork mishap, he ended up in Nam… then over here.

"I'm just glad we got out of that hell hole, even though we're in yet _another_ war," that would be Lieutenant Gearhart, a white guy who was inexperienced when Perry first came another his command. He and the others in his squad came to like him as time went on.

"Man, these guys are shit compared to the Cong," Harold Gates, a.k.a. Peewee, said. He's black like Perry, but has freckles and reddish hair. He hides his fear and uncertainty with comical bravado, as far as he can. He and Perry are close friends.

"I wouldn't say that, the year in this world is 1935… so we'll probably be facing World War II type of fighting," Johnson shot back, another black guy within Perry's squad; a strong guy that usually wields the hefty M60 machine gun in combat and is a capable leader.

"If they want to fight that way, we'll just blow them to smithereens like we did the Nazi's," Monaco, a soldier of Italian descent, said. He's the bravest of the whole squad, always the point man.

"You're forgetting that a lot of soldiers died in that type of fighting Monaco, more than in Nam," that would be Lobel. He's tall and a little better built than he used to be when he first got to Nam; he's also Jewish and a movie lover since his uncle is in movies. He made it a point to pretend that the war in Nam was only a war movie in which he, the main character, would survive; that was then. The funny thing was, there were some suspicion that he was homosexual… not that it matters now.

When they started to ship soldiers from Nam to Gallia, they handpicked the "best" performing Companies to be the first wave.

It was thanks to Captain… Major Steward, the ex-Captain of their Company who sent his men into killer after killer mission so he can attain a higher kill rate, which meant a promotion.

He got it.

"Please don't rain on my parade," Monaco.

"Just keep thinking of it as a movie and you'll be fine," assured Lobel.

Richie, "That doesn't work for all of us," he had followed Lobel's advice plenty of times. Often, it'll feel like that he's watching someone else fight in his body while he watched from above.

Almost like a movie.

"In any case, we're going into a militia unit," Gearhart explains, "you know, like a reserve unit… so I doubt we'll be seeing frontline action anytime soon."

"That's what we thought when me and Richie first got to Nam," Peewee, "that there was this ceasefire going on… didn't happen."

They were walking through the halls of the Gallia Militia H.Q., all in their new B.D.U.'s (Battle Dress Uniform) due to the fact that their older uniforms were worn out via the Vietnam War. Their uniforms are different from what the Gallians wear, they have blue uniforms while Richie and them (thus the U.S. Army) have predominantly olive drab uniforms, their uniforms have some armor plating to the arms, hips, knees, and shoulders unlike Richie's, only metal helmets for the U.S. and maybe a heavy bullet proof vest.

Among their numbers, women walked alongside men. Many of them are in B.D.U.'s.

This caused both sides to looks upon each other, the U.S. and the Gallians, and think to themselves, "_"What the hell are you thinking."_

"Alright, so the Captain should be over here," Gearhart said, after leading them through countless passages in the building, obviously lost despite denying it.

"If you only asked for directions from the regulars around here," Monaco pointed to the passing Gallian soldiers, "we wouldn't be late and have every female here stay twenty feet of us."

Peewee had tried to make a pass at one passing lady soldier; she has black shaggy short hair and green eyes and a sweet young face, which prompted Peewee to call her a cutey. The end result was that she closed her eyes, made a "Humph" sound, and pretended to not hear him, much to his dismay.

Peewee also remarked how she looked like a Dink, slang for a Vietnamese person.

Then, the process repeated same about five more times with five different girls, two of which looked Asian.

"Hey, it aint my fault that none of the gals never see a black guy before!" Peewee.

Richie has yet to see a black person in this city. Maybe Black people don't exist in this world, he thought.

"Well, we're here now so…" Gearhart had his hand on the doorknob to the so-called "Command Room".

A girl Richie's age opened the door before Gearhart could. She has on the same B.D.U. as the other girls around here, except she sported more armor on the arms. She had brown eyes, a pale face, and (strangely enough) silver hair tied into two pony tails with blue ribbons.

There was a degree of surprise, and maybe a little curiosity in her look due to foreignness of them.

He also noticed that she looked Asian, like an older An Linh… a little Vietnamese girl that he and his pals once helped in a pacification mission; she lost her mother for that reason to the Cong.

"Ummmm, excuse me," she smiled, bowed, and went her way. What struck Richie was that she even sounded like and older version of An Linh.

Richie looked over at the others; save for Gearhart, all of them had some degree of surprise and shock when they laid eyes on her.

"Did I just see An?" Monaco asked.

"Come in," said the voice of a middle-aged women, probably the Captain.

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"Mam, 1st Lieutenant Gearhart reporting as ordered."

"Mam, Staff Sergeant Gates reporting as ordered."

"Mam, Staff Sergeant Johnson reporting as ordered."

"Mam, Staff Sergeant Monaco reporting as ordered."

"Mam, Staff Sergeant Lobel reporting as ordered."

"Mam, Staff Sergeant Perry reporting as ordered."

They saluted as they said their reporting statements, a custom rarely done in the field of war like Vietnam.

The Captain in front of them, Eleanor Varrot, studied them through her half rimmed oval glasses. Her dark hair is tied into a bun and she wore what liked like an officer service uniform, minus the lounge coat.

She studied them, another officer waiting beside her bookshelf, "You five must be the advisors from…" she glanced at the papers in front of her, "The U.S. 1st Infantry Division, am I correct?"

"Yes Mam," Gearhart spoke for all.

She nodded with approval, "Okay then, from now on you'll work with Squad 7 of Gallia's Volunteer Corp," it sounded like she took her job more seriously than most of their own officers.

Good, we're not being split up, Richie thought. Ever since he first landed in Chu Lai, where he was first stationed in Nam, he has stuck to this squad up until their whole Company was transferred to Gallia.

There's a bond between these men, something that Varrot can clearly see.

"That said; let me introduce you to 2nd Lieutenant Gunther, Squad 7's commanding officer," she motioned to the young man.

"Hello," the young man with brown hair stepped forward; he's in B.D.U. too with a brass bars on both his shoulders to signify that he's a 2nd Lieutenant, "I'm 2nd Lieutenant Gunther, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

He shook Gearhart's hand, then went down the line… not as formal as he expected, Richie thought.

"You can call me Welkin if you want," as far as they can see, this guy is nothing like Gearhart, or any of the other officers they had previously worked with.

"Sure thing… Welkin is it?" Gearhart.

Varrot said, "You're dismissed… oh there's a strategy briefing at 1700 hours Lieutenant Gearhart, but you have plenty of time to meet your new squad mates," she looked at their bags, "and find the barracks if you haven't found it yet."

"Well Mam about that…" the barracks was one of the first things they went to look for, after spending more than an hour looking for it they spent another hour looking for Militia H.Q. which was far easier to find.

"Just follow me and you'll get their fine," Welkin offered with a smile.

To Richie and his buddies, this naïve officer could turn out worse than Gearhart did on his first day on patrol… when he got one of his squad mates killed.

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**Author's note:** Well, that's the first chapter. Please leave criticism to help me write better. Any extra info on recruits or such is helpful as well as any ideas that you would want in this story.

I'm also writing a series of short stories in the Negima section, called "Negima Shorts", is you're interested.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Racism with Desegregation

**Authors Note/Declaimers: **Alright, just got done editing the 2nd Chapter, it took me awhile to finish it too. If there are people reading this story please critique it and give me some help. I tried to include alot of recruits in this one too, and also tried to flesh out the characters from Dean Myers "Fallen Angels" (due to the fact that the novel itself doesn't really give out a informative past on each of it's characters, I had to make them a bit OC but not to OC, my apologies to any fans).

With that done, please enjoy and/or comment and critique.

Oh.. and to Ominae: Yeah, I'm pretty much using that FAQ as a basis for the recruits, I got the limited edition art book but it only has info on but a few... Anyways, thanks for commenting!

Before I forget: I do not own Sega's "Valkyria Chronicles" and Walter Dean Myer's "Fallen Angels".

**War Stories: Gallia**

**Chapter 2**

**Racism with Desegregation**

Thanks to 2nd Lieutenant Gunther's help, Gearhart and his group of "advisors" found where the barracks is which is in Main Street of Randgriz... the large building next to the Militia H.Q.

Boy did Gearhart feel stupid right now, "Geez, why not put a fucking sign or something?" Gearhart grumbled.

On their way next door, which was really about a couple of blocks due to the sheer size of the place, Richie couldn't help but notice some of Gallia's regulars, both militia and main army, watch some of the equipment being moved inside some of the makeshift Command Centers. Others stood by and watched some of the helicopters at work, some watched U.S. tanks take position somewhere on the cobblestone street or near a sandbag wall.

Seeing that they only used World War Two tech this shouldn't be a surprise.

"I'm amazed that you guys have those hovering machines," commented 2nd Lieutenant Gunther, looking up at the choppers hovering in the sky, "all the countries in Europa are just beginning to develop fix winged aircraft."

"Wait, are you saying that you don't have any planes at all?" Peewee, asking a question that everyone sent here asked themselves, "back in our world, we had planes since the 1910's… we were sure you guys have them by now."

"Well… I guess we're not as advanced in that sort of area as you guys," Gunther said, looking a bit flustered.

At this point they reached the lobby, an old one with wooden planks for a floor and walls that look like it was painted over fifty years ago, "Well here's the barracks, once you're checked in and get everything settled you should head over to the R&D Facility where the rest of Squad 7 is meeting."

Gunther saw looks of confusion among the batch of advisors, who then looked at their lieutenant who was supposed to know these things.

"Now… where would that be again Welkin?" Gearhart asked.

"Oh, sorry about that; it's the warehouse across from the barracks-," he gave them the directions, "Alright; I'll see you guys at 1800 hours and 1st Lieutenant Gearhart at 1700… so I'll see you later then."

They watched as he walked out the front door, and then turned to each other to give opinions about him.

"My God, I can't believe this fruit cake is our LT," Lobel complained to Johnson.

Johnson whispered to Lobel, "Remember when we first went on patrol with Gearhart?"

"When he set off a flare on fucking accident and got one of us killed… don't tell me he's gonna do worse," Lobel.

"I'm sure of it, we gotta keep an eye on him when we go out on patrols," Johnson.

Peewee and Richie felt just as unsure.

"What do you make of this guy Peewee?" Richie.

"I'm pretty sure he hasn't been in any fighting… I doubt he's even been in a fistfight for that matter… what about you?" Peewee.

"I'm just glad we have Gearhart with us," Richie answered.

Gearhart was silent on the matter, deep in thought.

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Perry, Johnson, Peewee, Monaco, and Lobel found their room… a four bed room to be precise. They weren't complaining cause it was far better then having to sleep in the poorly made hooches and sleeping in the boonies of Nam

There are five of them, minus Gearhart due to the fact that he was an officer and therefore has a room to himself.

"Alright, let's play a little poker to see who gets stuck sleeping on the floor," Lobel offered, his tanned hands shuffling cards.

"Later," Richie objected, "I want to see the capital first… Randgriz is it?"

"Count me in," Monaco.

"Might as well," Peewee.

"Alright then, but then you'll be the guys playing and not us," Lobel said as he grinned.

"What, why not?" Monaco.

"Cause me and Johnson take the top bunks once you guys leave," Lobel answered.

"Hey man, don't get me involved!" Johnson protested, "I just want sleep."

"Sounds like what a faggot would think to do," Monaco insulted.

Lobel countered, "Takes one to know one ass-hole."

It was like this when they tried to settle down and leave, Monaco would make passes on Lobel while Lobel countered them. As annoying as it was, the rest of them just tried to ignore it.

They were about to leave when Monaco made one more comment, "Fine Lobel, you guys take two bunks and we'll play for the last two… just stay the fuck away from Johnson when he's sleeping."

"Geez, I told you to-," Johnson was ignored.

"Don't worry, I wont," Lobel said smiling.

"Fuck off Lobel," Johnson.

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On Main Street, a group of friends' people watch. They were of the same unit, Squad 7 to be exact (they have the Gold Squad 7 patch to prove it), and are closely nit due to them being of the same blood.

They are Darcsen, a race of people who are heavily persecuted because of a long ago legend. All Darcsens have slanted eyes, dark hair, and usually have pale skin with some exceptions.

Legend has it that the Darcsens used to posses magical powers and used them to fight among each other, which in turn plunged Europa, the continent that Gallia resides in, into chaos. After a calamity that scorched part of Europa bare, peoples known as the Valkyrur swept in from the north conquering and united all of Europa. They are seen as heroes, even though they have all but disappeared as time wore on, while Darcsens continue to bear the curse of almost destroying Europa and are persecuted.

Most people believe that to be a myth, but there are a few who still hold that racist view of Darcsens.

They watched some of the American G.I.s move to and fro as they help set up checkpoints and move vehicles like their tanks, which had more sloped armor and longer cannons compared to their own tanks, and fast moving jeeps (some equipped with machine guns or bazooka looking cannons).

Among the G.I.s there were refugees from all over Gallia, trying to escape the Imperial Invasion, some looking self sufficient while others looked in need of food and other things.

There were some Americans taking glances at the small group of people watchers, and then turning away when they saw. They were looks of mistrust and maybe a little wonder.

_Do they hate Darcsens too?_

Nadine asked herself; of course, she did not know that the Americans themselves have fought people looking very much like the Darcsens back in their own world.

Nadine is an engineer within Squad 7, a Darcsen too. She has dark blue eyes, has a bob cut, and is about four to five feet tall with a thin yet toned body. She's the type of person who would watch a guys back and trust the other to do the same, a loyal type. She's also a little shy, but can come out of the open if one talks to her.

Her father, a school teacher, joined right after she enlisted.

"You think we'll beat the Imps back with these guys on our side?" Nadine asked her friends.

Claudia Mann, another female engineer, a little younger than Nadine, with dark blue eyes and always seems to have a red head band around her head, answers, "They have better tech than all of Europa does… so we should have the upper hand."

Nadine took notice of her ability to trip on nothing and have weapons jam for no reason at boot camp, but at least she was a good fixer upper and knowledgeable about vehicles.

"I'm pretty sure that those imps are running with their tales between their legs," Vyse Inglebard, a shock trooper within Squad 7 with a love for challenges and ability to handle a gun. He has an eye patch looking spectacle over his right eye and a devilish grin whenever he engaged in a challenge, "Almost wish they never came."

They were sitting at a table outside a restaurant, basically waiting for time to pass before they have to head over to the R&D Facility. Time seem slower than it usually was.

"Food here's pretty good."

Nadine overheard someone from her left.

"It's been ages since I ate like that; really hope I don't get the craps though."

"This aint Nam, you get craps only in Asian shit holes like Nam."

Nadine saw three American G.I.'s, one was Caucasian and the other two were incredibly dark skinned, something she hasn't seen before. One of the two dark skinned guys has freckles and reddish hair.

"Maybe we should ask those militia guys ahead how to get to the R&D facility," the black red head suggested, "cause this tourist map ain't doing us good."

By now her group have noticed them coming, which in turn they noticed.

The three stopped and regarded them with an uncomfortable silence for a little bit, which was broken by Nadine.

"Ummm, can we help you?" Nadine asked with a smile, being friendly.

"Ahh, yeah… you see where trying to find the R&D-," one of the black guys, a tall one over six feet, stopped mid sentence, "wait, you guys are from Squad 7 right, Gunther's Squad?"

"Yeah, we are," Claudia answered, she looked confused… probable asking what Nadine was asking herself.

_What do these guys want with Squad 7?_

"That's good news," the white guy among them sighed a breath of relief, "and you guys know where this R&D facility is right?"

"We know," Vyse answered, Nadine could see he was suspicious by the look of his narrowed eyes, "And why would you guys want to know?"

The red head answered, "Cause we your advisors."

"… Advisors?" Nadine and her posse asked in unison.

"Yeah, you know…" the redhead didn't know what he was talking about.

The white guy finished for him, "Soldiers sent to foreign nations to help them in training, equipment… that sort of stuff," he turned to the red head, "weren't you paying attention to that PR Officer?"

"PR…? You mean that Public Relations guy," the red head smiled, "not really, the guy practically put me to sleep."

"Since we're in the same squad now we should introduce ourselves," the taller one pointed at himself, "Richie Perry," he pointed at the white guy to his left, "That's Monaco," Monaco nodded as Perry pointed to the guy on his left, "he's Gates, though he prefers Peewee."

"Hey," Peewee smiled.

Nadine introduced herself, "I'm Nadine, this is Claudia," she pointed to Claudia who waved her hand and smiled like a kid, "and this is Vyse."

"Hey partner," Vyse said, shaking Richie's hand, "with you guys we'll kick this war in the teeth."

Nadine saw Peewee whisper something to Monaco and Monaco smiling, but she ignored them.

"We'll," Vyse looked at the coco clock inside the restaurant, "it's almost 1800 so we should get going."

"Damn," Perry, "We should hurry and get the other two."

"Naw man, forget them," Peewee, "They'll find their way."

"With just ten minutes left, I think not," Monaco.

"There's more of you guys?" Claudia.

Nadine noticed three of her friends coming from down the street.

Dallas Wyatt (another engineer like her with green eyes and Darcsen hair, Nadine noticed back at boot camp that she has a dislike for every guy that tried to flirt with her), Edy Nelson (A shock trooper, soldiers who were used to lead attacks, she was once a self-proclaimed actress in her hometown until it was overrun by the Imps, she's good from what Nadine heard), and Aika Thompson (a scout in Squad 7 with orange hair stuck out on both sides of her head like wings, though she wasn't with them during basic Vyse knew her well enough to include her in the group. She's outgoing and seems to like Vyse more than she tells)

"Hey guys!" everyone else looked toward the direction of the three girls, Nadine said hi in return as did everyone else.

"Hey, you guys hear anything about American advisors?" asked the green eyed girl.

"Yeah, we just met them," Vyse answered pointing at Richie and his friends.

Edy recognized them, "Wait, aren't you…?"

Aika reached to shake their hands, "You're the advisors we're hearing about right? Names Aika Thompson," she shook all three of their hands.

And apparently Dallas somehow recognized them too, if the way she twisted her look as if smelling an awful scent didn't wasn't enough proof, "Wait... your not saying these guys are-."

"Hey Babe," Peewee advanced toward Dallas after shaking Aika's hand, "recognize me?"

Dallas recoiled from Peewee's smile and placed Edy on front of her, "G-get away from me!"

Aika turned to Dallas, "What's wrong…" then she turned to Peewee, "what'd you do to Dallas!?"

Vyse stepped forward to back her up… then the rest of the group, Richie could practically feel the tension in the air.

"Come on, just because I'm black don't mean I bite," Peewee said as he backed off a bit.

Monaco and Perry stepped in as Edy backed away with Dallas… Nadine could see mistrust in their eyes.

"If that doesn't tell you she's not interested, I don't know what will," Monaco, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Yeah I get it…" Peewee.

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Both Johnson and Lobel made it to the R&D Facility with no problems at all. The place looked cluttered with tools, mechanical equipment, vehicle parts, mechanics, and soldiers from Squad 7. All of this while under a massive rooftop of a warehouse.

"Some place to set up a briefing," Johnson complained over the loud noise of mechanics.

"It's a nice break from the crowded and muggy tents of Nam, though I wouldn't mind the stereotypical briefing rooms in war movies," Lobel.

They found a place to sit and began bird watching… or girl watching as it is really called. They compared many girls to movie stars and other girls they've known.

They took notice of a few good looking girls, mainly a red head girl with blue eyes and about eighteen, a mature looking women with her dark hair covering her left eye cleaning a sniper rifle, and a dark skinned girl with a nice body and her long hair tied into a coarse looking pony tail.

Lobel could tell that Johnson especially held interest with that dark skinned girl, who looked Spanish or Hindu rather than black, by the way he kept looking at her when she wasn't looking at them.

_Come to think of it, there a lot of people here taking looks at us._

Of all the groups here, from the all girl groups to the groups of people who're friends, to the loners like that foxy looking girl with the sniper rifle, to the engineers working on the tanks, took looks at them when he and Johnson weren't looking in their direction.

_What? Got something to say? Come on and say it damn it!_

As if she were to answer his mental challenge, the girl Johnson was ogling took steps toward them.

Lobel elbowed Johnson and pointed toward the approaching girl.

Lobel could have sworn Johnson's eyes bulged right out of his sockets when he saw her.

"Hey handsome," she winked at them, "couldn't help but see you guys ogling me and my friends."

"Ahhh… yeah. S-sorry about that," Johnson mumbled, Lobel saw the guy blushing.

_Awwww… how cute, sent to war without as much as a kiss from that special someone; Poor bastard._

Lobel, experienced with flirting from his time spent with starlets (his uncle's a movie director), said, "Sorry Mam, we couldn't help but notice your fine looking self," he playfully elbowed his friend as he eyed him for what he said, " especially this big guy right here."

Johnson's face got redder, and from the look of her face it looked like she was catching on.

"Oh really?" she looks to Johnson with one eye closed and says, "well once you get the gusto to ask me out, I'll be at the group over there," she pointed to a group of three girls, "Oh, my name's Freesia, Freesia York, and your names are?"

Johnson was so flabbergasted that Lobel had to answer for him, "I'm Lobel, David Lobel, and the big guy here is Johnson with no first-."

"It's Arnold… Arnold Johnson," he corrected.

"Well that's nice to know, another question before I leave… you're one of those Americans right," Freesia.

"Yeah, and in case you're wondering," Lobel began bragging, "We're the advisors assigned to this unit."

"Oh I see," she smiled at Johnson as she said, "Well, I guess we'll be seeing more of each other," then she went back to her own group, hips swinging as she walked.

"Well well, looks like you have an admirer Johnson," Lobel teased.

"Shut up man," Johnson.

"Hey, you should be thanking me-," Lobel noticed a few other people approach them.

"Ummm… excuse me," a shy looking girl with blonde, mid back long hair affixed with a pink ribbon and blue eyes, "M-my name is Susie Evans, y-you're the advisors right?"

"Yep," Lobel smiled, causing her to blush.

_Poor girl, I can't believe they made her into a foot soldier. It's sad that they make any girl into a soldier._

It wasn't long till other people from the differing groups approached them as envoys.

There's a cute looking girl with dark blue-purple eyes, maybe around sixteen with black ear length hair and a round face. She's one of the engineers working on the tank nearby and had bags full of tools around her hips, she looked like one of the Darcsens, "Hello, my name's Isara, we're glad for your help."

There's a happy looking guy with spiky hair by the name of Ted Ustinov, "Hi I'm Ted, you guys are those Americans right?" He also has a knack for cracking jokes, some good, and some god awful.

There's a small, brown eyed, twelve year old kid that was made into a shock trooper from what she said (_they made this kid into a shock trooper, must be really desperate_), "So, do you guys have combat experience or something?" her name is Aisha Neumann.

There's another girl by the name of Dorothy Howard, a fifteen year old with her brown shoulder length hair in a small bun, she seemed worse off than Susie, and she's a shock trooper too, "C-can you give us pointers or something?"

There's a chubby Asian looking guy that reminded him of Johnson when they first met, in looks (minus the smooth, black, ear length hairdo) only. The guy, Kevin Abbotts, looked green as hell; Lobel wondered if he'll make it through this war, "So… how long have you been fighting?"

There were a couple of others, but there were so many questions bombarding him and Johnson at once that he couldn't remember their names.

Lobel and Johnson talked about Nam, how it was hot and muggy, how you would get the craps from eating food there, how they would arrange a ambush and go on patrols, how the enemy would strike them then disappear and lay traps on roads and damn near the entrance to a base.

They decided to leave out the… inhuman things their enemy, the Viet Cong, is known to do.

In return, they received a bit of information of how the military in Gallia is organized, how the rich and high middle class went to the Main Army of Gallia while the rest got sent to the Militia branch (and from what Lobel was hearing, the weapons, gear, and armor given to the militia paled in comparison to the Main Army), how they lost their homes to the invasion, how the imps fought (_mass_ _blitzkrieg and flanking maneuvers… World War II fighting indeed_), how the Imps struck down civilians and soldiers alike, and how they kidnapped Darcsens to be used as slaves.

As far as Lobel could tell, their new enemy would be a stand up fighter using flanking tactics and no guerilla shit, they'll be tougher but at least they'll strike more often and be a little more predictable. Even their cruelty paled in comparison to the Cong of Nam.

_Looks like these "Imps" don't torture people we help, cut off baby's heads, or turn them into living mines for God's sake._

There was two more minutes left till 1800, and still the other advisors are a no show.

"How the hell did you guys get here fore us?" Lobel recognized Peewee's voice.

"Because we came here about twenty minutes earlier than you, what do you think?" Lobel, he noticed that Peewee had a group of Darcsens with him, some cute ones at that.

Isara said her greeting to them with a few others, and then stopped to look at Peewee, Richie, and Monaco.

Turning to the group that was bombarding him with questions, "meet your other advisors, right over there," he pointed to Richie and the rest.

Richie, Peewee, and Monaco introduced themselves, for what looked like a second time. They, them and a good chunk of Platoon… I mean Squad 7, began talking about their personal lives.

Lobel found it odd as to why there didn't seem to be as much racism against the Darcsens as he expected. The PR Officer must have been slacking… or maybe racist against slants.

Richie talked about his hometown of Harlem, Johnson about his life in Georgia, Susie and her life as a ranch hand, Ted and his dream to become a famous comedian, Isara and her dream to build this world's first aircraft (_too bad we already beat you to it kid_), Edy and her dream to be an actress (_how many girls do I know that I held that dream, this one would be number…_), and Lobel and his previous dates with half known actors.

He stayed away from talking about his Father back at the states.

"You're lying about you dating Natalie Wood!" Monaco.

"How much you wanna bet?" Lobel, smiling; he is lying.

Of course, the Gallians over here did not now who Natalie Wood is and how much of a star she is.

"It's just too hard to believe," Richie.

"Do you advisors know when our Lieutenant is gonna be here?" Lobel turned to the voice, another cute, albeit maybe in her twenties, Darcsen lady, with her should length hair tied into a small ponytail and dead looking dark blue eyes. There was an Asian looking guy with her, dark skinned and wore glasses. They seemed to be acquainted with the other Darcsens.

Richie looked at the clock, "its past five… they should be here by now."

"I see… by the way I'm Lynn," the Lady introduced herself, "and this is Karl, my husband," her husband nodded, he looked real nervous.

In a way, they looked familiar to Lobel. Karl reminded him of Jamal, a medic who was assigned to their company a couple of weeks before being shipped here. He's not a coward, but there was no way that he could patch people up and pee himself at the same time.

Lynn was another matter, _I know I saw someone like her before, just where…_

"S-so, what are your ranks?" Karl.

It looked like Richie was going to introduce every one of them, again. Lobel turned to Peewee, who's leaning on a crate to ask him if those two look familiar.

There was something wrong with Peewee.

"We're basically all Staff Sergeants but-," Richie turned to Peewee, he was shaking real bad.

"Peewee what's up, you alright?" Johnson.

His eyes were wide open, the pupils narrowed.

"Peewee, what the fuck man!" Monaco.

Isara, the engineer girl, went to him and began to try and help him down as he slid down the crate.

He was shivering on the ground now, eyes still wide in terror.

"Peewee… Peewee! Snap out of it!" Richie grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

Lobel gently pushed Richie and Isara away, "Let me take care of this…" and with one leg kneeling, Lobel socked Peewee senselessly.

There were confused, horrified, and dumbfounded looks on those watching while others groups began to take notice.

"Goddammit Lobel!" Johnson.

"What the hell was that for?!" Monaco.

"Was that really necessary?" Lynn, looking a bit dumbfounded.

"Are-are you okay?" Isara's holding a limp Peewee.

Before Lobel's friends could call him every curse word and low life animal name they could think of, he explained himself, "Guys calm down, I'm making him one of us again."

"Stop, stop," Peewee, lifting himself from the ground, "he helped me… I'm good now."

A couple of others, including Richie, offered him help. Of course he refused them and helped himself to a seat on a crate.

"Dammit, look I'm good," he kept touching his face, which was beginning to swell up, "he didn't sock me that hard… I just… just had a flashback or something-."

While Peewee thwarted Susie's attempt to help him, Lobel remembered the person who looked like Lynn, _the Cong mother and her mined kids… how could have I forget that rainy day._

He looked at Peewee, his eyes sad, _how could he forget…_

"Boy, you people talk sooo loud!" complained someone from another group, "then again, Darcsens are known to cause a ruckus."

_Do I sense a race war here? _Lobel noticed some people backing away from his group and the Darcsens with them.

"… And who might you be?" Lobel asked the stranger, she has a beautiful face, a deep but fine voice (_sort of like a New Yorker_), and had a weird hair style.

_Why the hell does she have her hair like that... are those supposed to be bulbs or ponytails!?_

"If you people knew better you'd stay away from Darcsens," she said, causing some to wince in anger… but they didn't counter or anything, "or you'd might blow up."

Lobel and the other advisors shot back looks of confusion, due to the fact that they were only told that that people were racist to Darcsens, but Peewee, who Lobel found out to be allergic to racism, shot back smack, "Blow up, I don't know what your cracker ass self is talking about, we were spending all this time with these nice people and we haven't blown up yet."

"Cracker…?" she looked confused.

"It's a word for ugly racist white people like you!" Peewee, acting like he was never hit by Lobel.

The stranger twitched, "Who are you calling ugly?"

Peewee answered, "Who'd you think!"

"Stop!" Isara placed her self in the middle of the two, even though the advisors pulled Peewee back, "we're in the same squad! How are we supposed to fight if-."

"Shut up Dark Hair!" she punched Isara out of the way, sending her to the ground with a loud thump. Nadine and Claudia went to her.

"What… why!?" Richie.

"I don't need any Dark Hair getting in my way!" the stranger.

"Let me go, let me the fuck go!" Peewee yelled, trying to break free of his friends grip, "I gotta teach this bitch a lesson!"

"They didn't make me shock trooper for nothing kid," she beckoned him with her hand, "come on, I'll wipe the floor with ya!"

"Let me go!" Peewee.

"No! You'll just make things worse!" Johnson.

_Damn, didn't know some people here are that racist!_ Lobel looked around him as he held Peewee back, they were just watching, not coming to the Darcsens defense like Peewee was. _Maybe they're all a bit racist._

"ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH!" Welkin ordered, the guy seemed to have appeared out of nowhere with everyone focused on the fight. Lobel noticed Gearhart and about six other people with him, an old bald guy with a lot of light plates of armor and two middle aged people, one being a women and another a Darcsen man with glasses, among them.

Welkin saw Isara on the floor, "Is!" one of Welkin's companions, a white girl wearing a white bandanna on her head and had brown hair tied into two pony tails, ran to her while Welkin followed.

"… Owww," she pushed herself up with the help of Nadine.

"Wh-what happened?" Welkin.

"What's the meaning of this!" screamed the girl with the bandanna; Lobel thought she couldn't be much older than he was.

"That dark haired brat got in my way!" yelled the stranger, "that's what happened!"

_…Do they know each other? _Lobel thought of the bandanna girl, Welkin, and Isara.

"She was just trying to stop the fucking fight goddammit!" yelled Peewee, this caught Isara off guard; Lobel thought she blushed for a bit.

"Alright enough, both of you!" rough voice from the LT's group, he was big, had full facial hair minus a mustache, and had a lot of armor around his right arm, "Rosie, I may distrust the Darcsens as much as you do, but they're are squad mates now, so you'll have to make do!"

The stranger, Rosie, just shrugged him off and sat on a nearby crate.

Gearhart picked it up from there, "Peewee, I know how it feels but you're a Sergeant now so pull your shit together!"

Rosie seemed a little surprised, as did a lot of Squad 7 who didn't hear from Richie that he and the other advisors are staff sergeants… minus 1st Lieutenant Gearhart.

Peewee, his face a little swollen from Lobel's punch, just looked away.

"You can't just go and punch every guy who makes a racist remark," Gearhart.

Peewee, from what Lobel can hear, just mumbled then grabbed him a seat on a crate.

We all took seats afterward.

From there, Welkin made his briefing on Squad 7's, and therefore Gallian Militia 3rd Regiment, very first assignment. Their mission is to help stop the advance of the Imperial forces at a city called Vassel, which is already being held by the 1st Gallian Infantry Division with the help of the some elements of the U.S.'s 1st Armored Division and 82nd Airborne Division, and retake the city's bridge.

"Alright 7's we leave at 1900 hours, we'll have trucks waiting at the front gates of Randgriz," he looked to Gearhart, "and we also have to reorganize this Squad too, that'll be 1st Lieutenant Gearhart's job so listen up."

"Right, I'm 1st Lieutenant Gearhart! I'm one of the advisors assigned to Platoon… Squad, I mean Squad 7," he brought out a clipboard, "Thanks to some race problems, I had to make a few _adjustments _to our team configurations," he shot an eye at Rosie, "Alright, you can take it from here Alicia."

"So just stay quiet and listen up, we'll get through this quickly," the girl with the bandanna, Alicia, is handed the clipboard and started yelling names, "Staff Sergeant Perry, up and front!"

Richie took a look at Peewee, then Johnson, then Lobel, and finally Monaco. They had the same look on each others faces, they felt sad… not wanting to break up after staying a squad for so long.

_The moment we dreaded… well we were warned._

Squad 7 looked at us, Gearhart got impatient, "Perry, up and front," Gearhart ordered somewhat softly, understanding what's wrong.

Slowly, Richie left his old squad, his friends who stuck by him since he first came to Nam, and walked toward the front.

**More Author's Notes: **Well, that's the second chapter, hoped you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be based on four POV's, one will be Gearhart's while the others will be three recruits of my choosing (if you want a recruit to be one of those three, don't hestitate to reccoment them!)

So, thanks again for reading!


	3. Chaos at Vassel

**Author's Notes/Disclaimer:** It took me forever to complete the Squad 7 roster, which is more of a fifty man platoon than the twenty man squad you pick out in the game. I didn't bother to organize characters according to friendships and the like, but they'll be there outside of combat.

To Dark Knight Gafgar: I don't know if the term "Cracker" was ever used in the Sixties or Seventies either, I did a whole lot of internet searching for racist slang words in that time… only to find a big list of them.

As for why there are American soldiers in that world, I still don't know… J/K, I have an idea and will reveal it in due time. As for the errors, I'll look over my scripts a bit more closely after completing them.

To Hurricane's Quill: Thanks for the compliment! I hope I'll keep getting their personalities right, just point out anything wrong with any character if there is.

Before I forget: I do not own Sega's "Valkyria Chronicles" nor do I own Walter Dean Myer's "Fallen Angels"... and maybe a little bit of "Fullmetal Alchemist" too (no alchemy included).

**War Stories: Gallia**

**Chapter 3**

**Chaos at Vassel**

**1****st**** Lieutenant Walter Gearhart:**

I looked over the Squad 7 roster one more time using some overhead street lights, running my hand through my hair while at it:

* * *

Squad 7

Squad Leader: 2nd Lieutenant Welkin Gunther (Tank Commander)

Advisor/Assistant Leader: 1st Lieutenant Rick Gearhart (U.S. Rifleman)

Platoon Sergeant: Sergeant 1st Class Alicia Melchoitt (Scout)

* * *

Squad Teams:

* * *

Alpha Team (7-1): Rifle/Tank

Team Leader: Sergeant Juno Coren (Scout)

Private Hermes Kissinger (Scout)

Private Melville Young (Scout)

Corporal Brigitte Stark (Shock Trooper)

Private Alex Raymond (Shock Trooper)

Corporal Wendy Cheslock (Shock Trooper)

Specialist Theold Bohr (Lancer)

Private Karl Landzaat (Engineer/Tank Loader)

Private Dallas Wyatt (Engineer/Tank Gunner)

Private Isara Gunther (Tank Driver)

Staff Sergeant Catherine O'Hara (Lead Sniper/Sniping Consultant)

Advisor: Staff Sergeant Richard Perry (U.S. Rifleman)

* * *

Bravo Team (7-2): Rifle

Team Leader: Staff Sergeant Largo Potters (Lancer)

Private Ted Ustinov (Scout)

Private Montley Leonard (Scout)

Private Freesia York (Scout)

Corporal Hannes Salinger (Shock Trooper)

Specialist Jane Turner (Shock Trooper)

Private Dorothy Howard (Shock Trooper)

Corporal Nils Daerden (Lancer)

Private Herbert Nielson (Engineer)

Private Oscar Bielert (Sniper)

Advisor: Staff Sergeant Arnold Johnson (U.S. Heavy Machinegun)

* * *

Charlie Team (7-3): Rifle

Team Leader: Sergeant Coby Caird (Shock Trooper)

Corporal Noce Wordsworth (Scout)

Private Ramona Linton (Scout)

Private Susie Evans (Scout)

Corporal Edy Nelson (Shock Trooper)

Private Kevin Abbott (Shock Trooper)

Specialist Salinas Milton (Shock Trooper)

Private Jann Walker (Lancer)

Private Homer Peron (Engineer)

Corporal Marina Wulfstan (Sniper)

Advisor: Staff Sergeant David Lobel (U.S. Rifleman)

* * *

Delta Team (7-4): Rifle

Team Leader: Sergeant Yoko Martins (Lancer)

Private Cherry Stijnen (Scout)

Private Nancy Dufour (Scout)

Corporal Nina Streiss (Shock Trooper)

Private Aisha Neumann (Shock Trooper)

Corporal Lynn (Shock Trooper)

Private Mica Hawkins (Shock Trooper)

Specialist Vyse Inglebard (Shock Trooper)

Private Ramsey Clement (Engineer)

Private Emile Bielert (Sniper)

Advisor: Staff Sergeant Francis Monaco (U.S. Rifleman)

* * *

Echo Team (7-5): Mortar

Team Leader: Sergeant Wavy (Scout/Spotter)

Private Aika Thompson (Scout/Spotter)

Corporal Rosina Selden (Lancer)

Private Walter Nash (Mortar)

Specialist Hector Calvey (Mortar)

Private Audrey Heitinga (Mortar)

Private Elysse Moore (Mortar)

Corporal Nadine (Engineer)

Corporal Cezary Regard (Sniper)

Advisor: Staff Sergeant Harold Gates (U.S. Rifleman)

* * *

I didn't need to look over it again, seeing as everyone is where they should be. Me, Alicia, and Welkin made sure of that, going from truck to truck.

The trucks belonged to the U.S. Transportation Corp, responsible for moving in supplies and troops belonging to the Army to any place. They aren't infantry types, but they get the job done.

Putting on my helmet and carrying my kit I boarded Welkin's tank, which looks like a blue oversized Sherman tank… like the one my Dad used to command… and waited to set off.

It's night, close to eight-ten minutes past 1900 hours. It's not very peaceful with people running to and fro, manning the gun trucks that escorted the convoy, talking over each other, copters in the air, or engines running then stopping… not like home.

"Looks like a few of us are late," I muttered to no one, we were supposed leave ten minutes ago.

"Squads 3 and 9 are having trouble boarding," Alicia, her brown hair and brown eyes reminded me of my own wife… still waiting for me back at the States. The only thing really separating the two is that blue uniform and the pieces of armor Alicia wore, "thanks to race issues."

"Why let petty things like race get in the way? Not that our military is much different." I commented.

Alicia and Welkin, who was looking out the top hatch of the tank with half his body inside, looked at me with incredulous looks.

"You guys have race issues?" Welkin.

"Yeah… well you hardly see it in the heat of war, but its there," I thought about one of my men, "Monaco used to be a bit racist… not anymore."

"You mean Staff Sergeant Monaco; I didn't know he's the racist type," Alicia, "Then again… I hardly know the guy."

I smiled, "Yeah… war has a thing with changing people's outlook on life and people…" I thought about the tank driver Isara, who happened to be waiting for the go ahead and probably talking with the other tank crew other than Welkin, "speaking of race problems… is it that bad here for... Darcsens is it?"

I could hear them inside the tank.

"Well… things have improved for the Darcsen race over time," Alicia, "they're not enslaved in some places like over here, and there are laws against forbidding anyone from going to a certain place, like a restaurant, due to race."

"Yet there are still people ignoring said laws," Gunther, looking sad, "You know my sister right? Back when we were younger, I had to stick up for her because of her Darcsen heritage."

I said, "Other than the fact they're still being enslaved, the Darcsens are not so different from the colored people, Black, Indian, Spanish, and others, back in the States."

For some reason I couldn't hear anyone inside the tank, they've gone quiet.

"That many people are being discriminated?" Alicia asked. Her being baffled looked like my wife… when I first told her that I would be joining the Army.

"Yeah, back in my world… white people like us are basically kings," I explained.

To that, Welkin asked, "Kings?"

"Yeah, I mean right now the U.S. and Soviet Union are the main super powers in my world with other countries claiming foreign land that shouldn't be theirs, and they're predominantly white… or so I figured," I continued to explain, "and since most are white, there are some who'd like to keep it that way and keep the 'lesser' peoples lesser… and hence the discrimination."

"So… just because these people are deemed 'lesser' than white people, they're discriminated against? That's horrible!" Alicia said in unbelief and disgust.

"You know what… I never really thought about them, neither hated nor liked, till Nam…" I thought back when I first got someone killed in an ambush, then all the other assignments after, "that's changed."

Welkin, looking serious and hopeful, "If there's ever a good use to war, it's to band people together despite deference's."

To that I said, "I'm sure it would… about the Darcsen race, since there doesn't seem to be much racism against other kinds, what'd they do to deserve it?"

I was sure of it now; Isara and the rest of the tank crew were listening in on us, which ended when the convoy began making their final preps.

I could hear people yelling to one another, readying to set off into the night… to Vassel. Truck engines were roaring, the tank engines of the Gallian and U.S. tanks roared louder, likewise all APC (armored personnel carriers) that the Gallian Main Army and U.S. Army used. The convoy lurched forward, we lurched forward with it.

I could hear choppers in the air, heading from one place to the other with supplies, men, or as air support.

"Looks like we're moving," Welkin stated the obvious; "Anyhow… if you really want to know it'll take awhile."

"We have almost three hours till we get to Vassel, I'm sure that's plenty of time," I said.

It's then that I learned about the Darcsens and the Valkyrur.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Private Ted Ustinov:**

It was hard getting sleep in these trucks, every few seconds they would hit a bump and there was no soft padding on the metal seats nor was there any seatbelts or anything to hold onto other than the netting that covered us from the outside nighttime chilly wind (which they told us not to touch).

That said, we were freezing cold and had to huddle together to stay warm. I wondered how those so-called American guys on those heavily armored trucks fared, with no netting at all and no coats other than their ponchos, completely exposed to the elements.

"Jeez, I hate to be them!" I yelled over to Montley, an impatient guy who can't stand the sight of pointy things, like knives or the rocket launchers lancers used, and always seems to have a band aid on the bridge of his nose.

"Who's them!? You mean those gunners out there!?" Montley said, shivering out of excitement rather than being cold, "Yeah, that has to suck sitting in an open truck and waiting for someone to fight!"

The noises made by the convoy were loud, so normal conversations were nearly impossible to do without having to yell.

"I hate to be near Jann right now! He might do something worse than cuddling up," I joked.

"No kidding," his shaking increased for a brief moment then resumed to it's normal rhythm, probably thought if he were really sitting next to him, "I feel bad for the guy who's next to him!"

We laughed; making people laugh is something I felt that I was good at… and so I made it my life's purpose.

I looked at the American advisor, the tall and really dark skinned guy cradling his heavy machine gun (that's rare since Militia soldiers never gets any machine guns other than machine pistols shock troopers used), and saw Freesia, a cute girl just at dark skinned (yet somehow not like the American in terms of race or looks) as the American, yelling a sort of one sided conversation.

"Looks like Freesia flirting again!" I yelled to Montley.

"She flirts with every good looking guy in all of Squad 7!" Montley.

"I know, but she looks especially interested in this one!" I returned.

"Really!?" he looked at Freesia, and then to the advisor, "Come to think of it, I never see her with any of the quiet guys in our unit, not for long though… and this is a bit one-sided… I think she really likes him!"

He turned to me, "You think they'd make a good couple!?"

"I don't know the advisor guy at all, and this guy's from another country… another world," I gave it a seconds thought and came up with a plausible answer, "A one-night stand at best unless this turns into one of those love stories!"

"You never know!" Montley smiled, "Maybe it is a love story!"

I looked at the girl in front of me, staring at the ground and looking anxious. Her shoulder length hair tied into a small bun.

I winked at Montley, "Maybe I should make a love story of my own!"

Montley smiled and elbowed me, "Aren't you talking to Cherry!?"

"Hey, I'm just making friends here!" I like Cherry, hell I even like her valley girl accent that countless people find annoying. People don't see that she's caring and loving because of her accent… and her ability to talk to no end… and her flirtatiousness… and her obsession over blues singers and movie stars…

I don't care, I still like her; but that doesn't mean she returns those feelings as of yet.

"I was just joking man, besides look at her!" I pointed at her, she looked away. We can tell she could hear every word we say despite the rumble and tumble of the convoy, "we can't have her freaking out on us," I smiled at her, "Right!?"

Thanks to the headlights of the truck behind us, I could see her flustered and embarrassed, "uhm… right…"

"So little lady, your name would be…?" I smiled again, she blushed.

"D-D-Dorothy Howard…" she looked so shy and innocent, I guess all of us kids in uniform were to an extent.

"Name's Ted, the guy next to me is Montley!" Montley smiled as I introduced him, "Now what was your name again, sorry the convoy is too loud and I couldn't hear!"

"D-Dorothy Howard!" she yelled.

"We still can't hear you!" Montley told her; of course we did hear her the first time. We just couldn't help ourselves but tease her a bit.

"Dorothy Howard!"

I pushed further, "What!"

"DOROTHY HOWARD!" I could see she was a bit annoyed, which I was aiming for.

"There, Now I can hear you!" I smiled, she blushed… her being annoyed of me all but disappeared.

"So Dorothy is it? Where are you from?" I asked.

"Jeez, can a guy get some sleep here!" That would be Squad 7's big man bear and Sergeant, Largo Potter.

"I can't see how anybody here can sleep in this!" Montley.

"He can sleep cause he's a man-bear Montley!"

"Damn right I am!" Largo exclaimed, grinning, "But even man-bears can't sleep when its cubs keep making a fuss!"

"Well, you better get used to it Sarge!" I smiled back at him, "Because we cubs are gonna be making a lot of noise once we get to Vassel!"

I looked to Dorothy, "So… where did you say you were from!?"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Private Emile Bielert**

For one moment, I was talking to some of my team mates, their faces barely illuminated by the white head lights of the gun truck behind our own truck.

I talked about my life before the war, how I used to be stuck in bed as a kid, how I begged my Mother to let me out despite my condition with the help of Father and my brother Oscar, how I used hunt deer with my Dad and brother with Dad acting as our spotter and we the shooters (he lost his left arm during the first war and refused to get artificial limbs, or automail), how I actually got into the military in the first place… and the very reason my brother jumped in with me, how snipers operate… well I talked about a lot of things cause they kept asking me questions.

In my answers, I left out how my parents died.

I guess a sniper is different from the rest of the flock and attracted a lot of attention, as if my sickness hasn't garnered me enough.

When I finally had a chance to be the one asking, I learned that Nancy, a glasses wearing farm girl, always was sheltered before her rural town was obliterated at the start of the war.

I learned Cherry Stijnen's childhood friend, Ted Ustinov, used to play jokes on her and everyone else in her hometown. By the way she talked about him you'd think she was in love.

I learned that Lynn, a Darcsen shock trooper girl in her twenties (I'm not one of those racist types, thanks to my father who stood up for some), had a daughter with her husband, Kyle (he was placed in Alpha Team as a tank loader for the LT's tank).

I wondered why she told us in a sort of past tense, I was too afraid to ask though… because of her eyes.

Her eyes looked dead.

I learned Mica Hawkins, another shock trooper who looked like he shouldn't be one, had bad luck with weapons and actually wanted to be an engineer but didn't have the grades and he screwed up too much (that's one reason, the other is that he looked really depressed).

As they talked, I listened. After a while, I saw darkness for but a split second.

Then I found myself hearing explosions, people running, panicking, screaming for their medics and mothers…

Screaming for their mothers… it had a huge impact on me for some reason.

"CLEAR OUT! CLEAR THE FUCK OUT!"

"MOVE, GET OUT!"

Those voices are that of a guy and middle aged women, I thought she was my mother for a second. I forgot they were my team lead and my advisor's voices.

I forgot who I was… I forgot I was actually a sniper.

All I could think about was that I needed to get off the truck.

There was an explosion behind me, throwing me, I can't recall hitting anything.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged to a ditch at the side of the road. My hands still held hold my sniper rifle.

The guy dragging me, I think he was one of those American guys, saw me barely awake thanks to the flares being launched in the sky and therefore illuminating the world around me.

"GET UP OR YOU'RE DEAD!"

He didn't need to tell me twice, I got up and staggered toward a set of buildings as he ran from me, maybe to help a few others.

I couldn't bring myself to realize that Vassel was ahead of me.

Another explosion behind me, a big one like the one that knocked me off my feet… I took a glance behind me. The guy that helped me was gone, and there was a burning, mangled looking truck.

I saw the bodies on the ground, some writhing and screaming in pain. People, I couldn't tell if they were medics or not, went to them.

I thought the guy that helped me was on the ground with the dead and dying.

That brought me to my senses, I ran as fast as I could to the city… away from the burning wreckage and panicking soldiers and artillery fire.

I saw a few guys in olive drab and blue, American and Gallian soldiers. I think I saw a yellow number 7 patch on some of them, that Squad 7 always wore to show what unit they were in, that was the reason I followed them.

As I ran, I realized that during our groups conversation I must had fell asleep (more like passed out with the cold and noise) and was jarred awake by some artillery fire… aimed at us.

Gunfire, within the city, a machine gun somewhere opened up.

I saw men in front of me fall according to how they were hit. Some doubled over as they were hit, some fell backward as their legs carried them a few more steps before falling, and some looked like they tripped.

I followed a group of guys to the outer wall of a crumbled building. There were American and Gallian soldiers. Some of them are wearing a number 7 patch.

At least I wasn't the only one lost and confused.

"Fuck! Looks like they got the main gate covered!" a dark skinned American guy observed, I recognized him as one of our advisors, "Where're the tanks!"

As if on cue, a tank rolled by. Its design was different than our worlds; it was small compared to their other tanks, had a compact gun with a big muzzle face, and strangely enough reminded me of a turtle.

There were a line of them; among their ranks were Militia small tanks. They looked smaller, weaker, in comparison.

The tank in front opened fire, destroying the Machine gun nest that was on a balcony with an explosion.

It rumbled forward, ignoring the rounds bouncing off its armor, as the tank behind it opened up on another MG nest.

All that was left of it was a hole on a rooftop.

"Move! Use them tanks for cover!" I heard the advisor order, "Keep your heads down!"

We moved right beside the tank, hoping that I wouldn't get killed in the process. I quickly lost my breath and was reminded of my sickness.

Still I kept moving.

"Imp Lancer! Left building on the second floor!" One of the Gallian soldiers yelled.

Instinct took over, I raised my sniper rifle in an unsupported position, drew a bead on him. His image in the scope, which rose and fell with my breaths, was illuminated by the flares in the sky, I could see pieces window, brick wall, and wood break off the house in peaces as infantry tried to shoot him while their bullets bounced off his metal armor.

I was about 100 maybe 200 yards away, If I aimed anywhere between the head and stomach, I'll end up overshooting him.

So I aimed for his balls.

He pointed at a tank with his lance; I pointed my rifle at him.

I held my breath; I think he did the same, ignoring the bullets whizzing past him with some drawing blood.

The crosshairs stopped rising and falling for a bit.

He fired, I fired.

My bullet penetrated his knight-like armor; his rocket penetrated one of the American tanks in front of me.

He held his front armor like he was about to throw up and doubled over, while the tank blew off it's turret in a fiery explosion.

"Good job kid!" the advisor said, patting me on the back before moving on.

"Emile! Is that you!?" I heard a women's voice with a sorta funny accent, someone familiar.

"Move out!"

I followed the squad leader, unable to verify who called out to me.

We took cover in an alleyway, away from the tanks; the alleyway barely alit by the flares being shot to the sky by artillery.

We took a breather, I didn't know how winded I was till that moment.

Nor did I know how much shell shock would grab hold of me the moment my adrenaline died down.

Beyond the alleyway, a MG fired down the street. We could see tracers pass the death hole opening. We can also hear those being struck by them, our own guys and gals.

I wanted it to stop, their screaming and begging and crying, it was driving me insane. I could barely hold myself together. When I looked at a few others around me, I could tell that they felt the same.

To keep my cool, I ejected the partially empty clip to insert a new one. It did nothing to help calm me down.

"You're that sickly sniper right?"

I turned toward the voice; it was the guy Cherry was talking about. Thanks to him, I didn't go nuts.

"I-i-it's Emile… y-you're Ted?" I asked.

"Glad you made out of that mess alive," he said, he looked like he was glad too.

Another guy, he had long hair for a guy and looked tired, that was part of Squad 7, looked at me and said, "We got separated from our unit when the convoy got hit... damn I could use sleep right about now," he had a lot of stuff on him, an engineer.

Another engineer, a Darcsen girl that was with the mortar team, came over to us, "you guys aren't the only ones," she looks shaken but otherwise okay.

"What happened to Cherry?" Ted suddenly asked.

"Cherry…? Oh, I don't know, I got separated from the rest of my unit when the artillery hit."

Ted cursed, "I hope she's okay."

"I'm hoping too."

"Aight, everyone with me sound off! Name your unit and shit," The advisor ordered, now that I have a better look at him I think he's the one that had a fight with Rosie. He had a knife out with a mirror stuck to it.

Everyone, me, Ted, the engineer guy named Herbert, and the Darcsen girl by the name of Nadine sounded off. We got guys from Squad 3, 9, and 5 while there were Americans saying they came from Easy, Alpha, and Echo Companies. We made fifteen people in all.

Three of us had mortars, a muzzle-loading indirect fire weapon that is made up of a tube, base plate, and a bipod. Three of us must be loaders.

"Shit! Just one...?" he looked at Nadine than began to bark orders, "Aight, I need five guys in all! Three will provide covering fire, while two move in and kill off that MG!"

Four guys volunteered, Ted included. The advisor pointed out Herbert.

"…Why me?" he asked, too lazy to yell.

"You have a shotgun right, once that MG goes down you'll be the one to open the door. I'm aint fucking asking shit-head!" the advisor.

"Fine… I'll go," Herbert got up and started to load shells into his shotgun.

"All you guys, see that overturned truck…" the five tried to squeeze in near the advisor to get a look at the mirror, "you three provide covering fire from that cover," that "three" included Ted and Herbert, "the two of you, go to that crater and shoot the MG from there!" he said to two Americans.

He took a position near the opening of the alleyway, "Wait for my signal."

The MG seemed to be focused on some unknown unit beyond sight; I know because I could hear their screams. The tracers seemed to fly higher and higher up across my view.

"MOVE!" He broke from cover and opened fire with his weapon as the volunteers, plus Herbert, moved beyond sight. I could see the line of fire suddenly lower as the dark skinned guy returned back to the alleyway.

As I heard the gunfire of the MG and rifles, he took out his knife with the mirror stuck to it and observed. I didn't see any tracers anymore, but I could still hear the MG as well as a few explosions that were too big for grenades.

The advisor looked away from his mirror, looking disheartened; I though we lost all of them at first, "Fuck…"

He pointed at me, "Sniper!"

I didn't want to go, I was too afraid and terrified to go… but I got up anyways, "S-Sir!?"

I looked at the mirror like he wanted me too and saw three of our guys, Ted and Herbert included, "Kid, you see that crater over there? Go take cover and snipe that MG son of a bitch."

"Y-yes sir."

"We'll charge out once you take out them out got it kid!?"

"Yes sir."

"Aight, wait for it…"

He broke cover and opened fire with his rifle on full auto, I ran out just as he did, ignoring tracers flying past me. I didn't hear a scream or anything from him, he hasn't been hit.

"EMILE!"

That was Ted's voice, he and the other two opened up on the MG as I ran past.

I jumped into the crater, two badly burnt bodies occupied it… I ignored them and focused on my job. Using the crater as cover, I took aim… hoping that they didn't know I was there. I was 50 meters away.

I loaded a new round and took aim, the image of the two knight armor wearing Imp, short for Imperial if you were wondering, machine gunners, someone who "fed" ammo into the gun and one who actually fired the weapon, moving up and down with my breaths.

The explosions, gunfire, screams of pain and communication, I blocked all of it out as I was trained to do. I focused on the now, on the two hunters who are about to be the hunted.

I held my breath and gently pulled the trigger.

My bullet hit the shoulder of the gunner and fell back; I didn't think I killed him.

Quickly I loaded another round and targeted the feeder, who took hold of the MG and aimed it at me. I didn't bother to hold my breath and fired.

The bullet hit the guy's head, puncturing a hole into the visor of the knight-like helmet, and fell backwards like he was a boxer and just got hit with a knockout punch. In truth, I aimed for his stomach.

The advisor and everyone else opened fire on windows of the building, a restaurant. Ted, Herbert, and the American got to me, "Good shooting!"

There was no time to say anything, which seems to always be the case in war. We ran to the door and took cover beside it. I got out my standard issue militia revolver (the military gives the Regular Army the semi-automatic pistols while we get stuck with six-shooters).

The advisor took position next to me. The other seven, including Nadine, were busy helping to set up the mortars, one of them was talking on a telephone like radio.

Others, Gallian and American, joined up with them and began pouring fire into the upstairs windows. Some of them had mortars and set up along side them.

"Herbert!" the advisor.

"I got it…" he aimed his shotgun from the midsection and fired, the door swung open and he got out of the way while Ted threw in a grenade.

There was an explosion of blue with the rush of smoke and debris out the window, and we all charged in.

The first floor of the restaurant was empty; we went through the kitchen to a set of stairs and went up.

A grenade clattered down the steps.

"FRAG!"

Everyone, including me, dove for cover, all except one.

The advisor took the grenade, "Take this you gook fuck!" and threw it back up the stairs.

There was an explosion, the advisor ordered us to charge up and we did.

The enemy, in their suits of armor and leather, took cover behind overturned tables and sofas which did nothing to protect them from our bullets or our grenades.

So they fell back to the next floor, covering their escape with more grenades.

"Kid, cover our mortars from here!" the advisor ordered me once the smoke cleared.

"Yes sir!"

"And keep it Peewee aight?" he turned to Ted, Hermes, and the Americans left, "Get your grenades out and throw them in on my order."

They made for the next flight of stairs; I wasted no time assembling my suitable perch.

I pushed a tattered couch about five feet from a hole in the wall that used to be a window and sat cross legged. I used my elbow to stabilize the rifle and steady me aim. Already there were targets trying to retake what's been lost.

I aimed at my first target, a shock trooper laying fire on an unseen line. I lined his image to the crosshair, illuminated thanks to the flares. Took a couple of breaths, held one, gently pulled the trigger…

He moved, I fired, I missed.

"…Damn it…"

I loaded another bullet, three more left in my clip, I took aim (the guy I fired on went out of view) waited about ten seconds, took a few breaths, held one in, line up my shot on a enemy Scout with a radio (to his balls to be precise), and fired.

I hit his radio, the enemy Scout threw it off and dove for cover.

"…Damn…"

Two bullets left, I moved to another perch just in case they found me. In fact they did, a grenade landed on the sofa and blew it to pieces in a blue explosion.

I found it funny that our grenades were somewhat different than from the ones Americans used; I didn't dwell on it though.

Other soldiers from various squads and platoons rushed up stairs to take positions, among them an American MG team with a .60 cal. No sooner had they got here, they set up and poured fired on the street below.

The advisor ran down the stairs, Ted and Hermes dragging a wounded American while his friend fired up the stairs at full auto, "They still guys upstairs!"

The CO ordered five guys, one of them a Gallian shock trooper with a flamethrower, with them and they went back up.

I took the farthest window in the room while the guys with the MG distracted them. I spotted a MG team running across the street for the remains of a car. I sighted the car through the scope, once again took breaths, the MG team reached it and started to set up, I held one in, they looked ready to fire, I fired before they could.

He stood there as the bullet hit him, grabbing for his bleeding chest, another soldier grabbed a grenade looking device and held it to his friend, it was ragnaid, a device that used ragnite, an energy source that runs virtually everything in the world, to heal wounds and cure certain sicknesses… though not mine apparently.

I sighted him, aiming for his legs, and fired. The bullet hit his upper back; he fell without administrating first aid.

I grabbed a new clip and reloaded my rifle. By then others, both American and Gallian, took positions next to me and began pointing out targets.

Someone, I can't remember who, pointed out a lancer on the rooftop at 9'oclock high. I took aim, a few breaths and fired.

He went down.

Another pointed out, a American I think, a Sniper aiming his rifle on some poor unfortunate guy on the ground below. I took aim, took a few breaths… and fired.

My shot got his neck; holding onto his wound, his life, he fell off his perch to the ground below.

I had three bullets left; another guy, a Gallian scout, pointed out a squad leader on the ground. I took aim and fired, I forgot to breathe since he was moving fast.

I hit his shoulder, and he went down hard.

Two bullets left; I saw a lancer run up the street, his long lance jerking left and right as he ran, before anyone pointed him out to me. I took aim, took a small breath and held it; the guy stopped and took aim at something, and fired.

The bullet hit his right arm, the point of the lance dropped as he launched his rocket. The resulting explosion threw the lancer back onto a few others behind him.

One bullet left; a tank rolled in, one of those small tanks with three turrets, with its tank commander pointing out where to fire. It stopped in the middle of the street and fired two of its guns. One of them hit the first floor of my building.

I aimed my rifle, took two breaths, held one, the image of the tank commander held still, I shot.

The bullet hit him right in the visor, knocking his head back. He fell backwards before the tank took a hit and burst into flames and wreckage.

The Imps, seeing they are about to be overrun, fell back in a organized way (leapfrogging, one group taking shots while the other ran past) while the tank column that we have previously escorted into the city rolled past my building.

I lowered my guard, sighed a breath of relief. I could feel my heart slow its rhythm…

"Sniper!" that jerked me back awake, "Fifth house on the left, third floor, second window!"

I immediately took aim, the image of sniper barely visible due to him being far back into the room.

He was aiming at me, I didn't hesitate.

I pulled the trigger…

Nothing happened.

I realized I forgot to reload.

"What are you waiting or!? Shoot the fucker!"

I couldn't say anything, I couldn't do anything. I could only watch the Imp sniper before me sit still, his rifle being supported by the table he used, and aim at me…

I could have sworn I saw his trigger finger move in the darkness, I flinched.

I heard a rifle shot, for a second I thought I died instantly because I didn't feel any pain at all.

"Emile! Emile, is that you!?" the women's voice from when we were escorting the tank column.

I looked away from the window to the women before me, a sniper rifle with its barrel smoking.

She breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh Emile, thank God you're alive!" she said in her funny accent.

I could barely lift my head to see who it was, a slim figure under her blue uniform, a pale face covered in dirt, dark reddish hair… it was the lead sniper in Squad 7, Catherine O'Hara.

I dropped my rifle, my body shaking uncontrollably. I can't remember if those guys that acted as my spotters helped me down or not. Next thing I knew I was sitting on my ass with my face on my knees.

I wanted to cry, I think I was doing just that too.

I couldn't tell what was going on anymore; all I wanted to do was curl up and cry.

Hands… arms… they wrapped around me in a familiar way, like my mother did. But she's long gone now, it couldn't be her, "Don't worry Emile, I got him before… it's over, your work here is done."

I could barely hear the world around me now, I recognized the voice of that dark skinned advisor, Peewee, and he sounded worried… but that didn't matter as much as the arms around me.

I fell asleep, or passed out I guess, in her embrace.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Corporal Edy Nelson**

It's funny actually, when I was at basic I bragged to Nadine, Ramona, and my other friends about having better accuracy at the firing ranges than the rest of them. I did so well in Basic that I was promoted to Corporal on the get go.

No amount of training can prepare you for war, for real explosions, for real bullets, for the real dying.

Ever since the artillery strikes, I've been running scared from one place to another spraying fire, not bothering to aim, as we escorted the tank column into the city.

"On the right! On the right!" Caird, my team lead and really old vet of the first war (he's sixty-seven), "Edy that's yours!"

I fired in that direction, hoping to score a lucky hit. I wouldn't be able to tell even if there was light out… which there wasn't; all we had were flares in the sky, shot up by our own friendly artillery.

If you're wondering, we're taking cover in a set of craters made by heavy artillery.

"Mortars incoming!!!" Lobel yelled through the gunfire.

I was the first to dive to the ground; there were explosions around me… small ones compared to the artillery fire outside the city.

You see… warfare in the movies I saw, where everything is coordinated, planned out, and goes as planned for the good guys while the enemy was always the opposite, is way different from warfare that was going on around me.

The mortars stopped dropping.

"Get up!" Lobel pulled me up with one hand while holding his automatic rifle with the other, "Open fire on that 2nd floor!"

I did as I was told and sprayed fire, from one end of the building to the other, shooting up brick walls and shattering windows… I'm still not sure if I struck an Imp.

Caird turned to us, "Everyone on me, we're gonna take that building ahead!"

At once I screamed, "But that's… its, NO!!!"

I looked at Abbot, our other shock trooper who looked just as scared as I was but in more control of his self, "More incoming!"

Lobel, "We have to go! They got this place zeroed in!"

"No! I don't want to! We'll die if we do!" I felt tears, I was crying, I was too scared to feel embarrassed.

"Dammit Edy we'll die here if we stay, now come on!" Lobel, he tried to pull me up.

"NO!"

"Pull it together Edy-," Ramona tried to help me up but was cut off by Salinas, "But she's my friend! I should-."

"We'll help her! Just get across with the others!"

"But-"

"We'll catch up… now go!" Lobel assured her

She took one look at me, I could barely see her through my tears, and she charged across with the rest of the unit while the Imp MGs focused their fire elsewhere.

When this whole thing started with the convoy, I was talking… or bragging, whatever you wanted to call it, about how I was going to be a movie star when this was over.

Lobel, one of those American advisors who I befriended back at the R&D facility, was taken aback for some reason. He said he didn't expect me to be so snobby; of course he was playing around in a flirtatious matter going as far as to pinch my cheek and call me cute.

Salinas, another shock trooper and a handsome one at that, said something along the lines of me being just confident than being snobby. He also said that it added a more womanly look to me.

Of course I blushed, at both comments (well… Salinas was better in my opinion), and for the rest of the trip that I was awake in the two went all out in a "friendly" game of talking smack and fighting over me.

While that was happening, I made conversation with some of the other people in my team, trying to be careful not to dominate it like my parents said I did.

Susie talked about her life as a ranch hand at her parent's farm and how she was actually drafted into the militia, rather than enlisted like the rest of us.

Noce, who was the first person I spoke to after Lobel and Salinas and just as handsome as Salinas with his dark skin and bandanna, talked about his life in Bruhl, a border town of eight thousand in the North East of Gallia, and about a girl he was friends with since childhood, Alicia Melchoitt our Squad Sergeant … I think he was saying he liked someone else rather than me.

Other people… there was Homer Peron, a blonde angel faced kid that used to live in my old hometown before it was overrun and also our team's engineer (I used to know his sister), who said that he actually volunteered. We all thought he was drafted like Susie, very surprising.

How can I forget one of my best friends: Ramona, she's been with me before boot camp and helped defend me when people found out I was half Darcsen. On the truck she talked about how she made it to be a model for Gallia's famous fashion magazine, _Gallian Cute_.

The others were already asleep, well… except Marina, our team's sniper. She was near the end of the truck, looking out into the night. Her hair covered most of her face.

There was Jann too; I guess he's our unit's token gay guy if there was ever one to begin with. He was talking about how cute Lobel and Salinas is and the possibility (he whispered) that Lobel could be gay himself… according to one of Lobel's friends.

Both Salinas and Lobel stopped bickering at the mention of their names, and scooted as far away from Jann as possible (waking up Abbot, another of our shock troopers, in the process) upon hearing about how "cute" they were.

Anyways, it was like this when I fell asleep… then the artillery came. In a nutshell, we escorted the tank column that broke away from the trucks and helped protect them from Imp lancers and other infantry types.

Easier said than done… next thing I knew, we were near the bridge using craters for cover. Marina, with Noce acting as a spotter, broke away some time ago and is now sniping away at the street besides the building, taking occasional shots at the Imps inside the building.

Back to the story now:

Salinas dropped his SMG (small machine gun for those uninitiated civvies) and grabbed hold of me, his kind face seen through the light of the flares in the sky, "I know this is hard for you Edy, it's hard for me too… but we'll die here if we don't move."

His words, him holding me like that, calmed me down a bit. I started to cry harder, "… but… I'm scared… I can't-."

"Yes you can," Lobel said, his smiling face also could be seen; he picked up my SMG and handed it to me. I grabbed onto it with shaky hands, "Just let us knights in shining armor protect you," he winked. Salinas smiled at his declaration, not minding that he was trying to take the over his show… not on purpose hopefully.

I kind of blushed at that, them helping me, and gathered the little courage I had in me and wiped away me tears, "A-alright then."

All this, amidst a rain of mortar shots that miraculously missed us, "Good then… Prince Charming?"

"Alright… get ready Edy," Salinas helped me up, "I should be the knight since I actually have armor on!"

"Screw you Salinas," he grabbed my hand, and with Salinas, "LET'S GO!" pushed me from my cover.

Now that I think about it, it's pretty embarrassing… me shrieking and running to the building. I began to cry again too. I probably attracted their attention to, since a lot of MG fire shot up the cobblestone street I ran across.

"KEEP GOING! ALMOST THERE!" I can't recall who said those words, but it helped me on.

We reached the building, the whole team already there; they stormed across when I was freaking out… like I am now.

Lobel, trying to catch his breath, "…you… did good… Edy."

Salinas patted me on the back before moving to take position by the door, getting ready to breach it.

"Good to have you back Corporal," Caird.

"Glad your back," said Ramona, looking relieved.

"Now that Miss Edy's episode of terror is over," Homer said mockingly (I'm pretty sure he was making fun of me then, don't worry though; I get him back soooo many times over. I wonder why he's so calm in this hell), aiming his shotgun to the door handle, "let us crash this party…"

Homer fired, the doorknob shattering into a billion pieces, and stepped aside in one movement while Caird threw in a grenade, powered by ragnite unlike the American ones that use gunpowder and shrapnel, and looked away as it blew the whole room apart.

Before the dust settled, we all charged in, Homer being the last one. The bottom floor was empty except an Imp soldier, full armor and all, ran up the stairs.

His friends dropped a grenade to cover him.

"GRENADE!" screamed Caird.

We dove to the floor as the grenade blew up in a blue explosion, throwing everything near its epic center across the room and through a few windows.

"Call out if you're hurt!" Caird.

"My ears hurt but we're A-OK!" yelled out Ramona.

Caird yelled out orders, while grabbing his back like he was in pain, "Erghh, dammit… Lobel you take the lead! Salinas, Kevin, Edy, go with him! Clear everything on the top floor! We'll follow once you're done!"

"S-sir!" Kevin Abbot, still looking scared but stacked up with Lobel.

"Kevin is it?" Lobel, "cover us once we clear this murder hole, just fire upstairs and be careful not to hit us, can you do that?"

"Y-yes sir," Kevin looked a bit relieved.

"Good, I'll go first…" he slid closer to the opening that led to the stairs, looked out.

A burst of flame erupted from the opening.

"AHH FUCK!!!!" Lobel, grabbing his face.

"Lobel!" Caird, having somehow remedied his back for the moment, went to him with ragnaid. Others were about to do the same but held positions.

"I'm okay! I'm good, he almost got me though…" he unhooked a grenade that was hanging on his waist, a fragmentation grenade, nothing like ours.

"Screw covering fire, on my orders we charge in!" he pulled the safety from his grenade.

"One… two… FRAG OUT!!" he threw it up the stairs.

I think it blew up before it hit the ground; there was a blood curdling scream and a commotion upstairs. Then there was the sound of a window shattering and another scream as he fell off the building.

"MOVE!" Lobel charged up the stairs, we followed. What used to be a doorway was in flames, he went through it despite that…we all went through.

The enemy, their armor glinting thanks to the flare's light that shown through the window, were in front of us. They were near a set of windows, like they were getting ready to jump. It was kind of funny in a way; we stood there… us looking at them and them looking at us through their visors.

We had guns pointed at each other

Lobel broke that silence, "OPEN FIRE!"

I don't know about the others but I sprayed at everything in front of me, I didn't bother to aim my SMG; our bullets hit a few of them but they all managed to jump from the window.

I heard the crack of a sniper rifle.

Why they didn't open up on us is a mystery.

Lobel ran to the window, we followed him, and found him surprised for some reason, "Well, what do you know…"

The Imps actually grappled down the house with some rope made from various blankets and clothing left by previous occupants ahead of time. They were now running to the bridge, helping to carry the wounded and leaving behind their dead. They were covered by a heavy tank that belched out shell after shell into some godforsaken building, probably trying to kill off Marina and Noce.

Now that I think about it, there was a line of troops and armor running to the bridge

"Looks like we're winning… jeez I'm pooped," Kevin said as he slumped down onto a still standing sofa. I sat next to him.

"That was pretty clever, how they escaped," commented Salinas, examining the rope.

Lobel, "I'm a damn team lead too; I should be taking notes… I'll get Caird. You guys get some rest and fucking stay away from the windows, that means you Salinas."

"You got it Sarge…" Salinas answered, making his way to me he sat on one of the sofa arms, "Are you okay princess?"

I was close to passing out, just barely able to listen to the exchange, "Ehm… what!? Oh, I'm fine!"

"That's good… well, you did a good job Edy."

I found myself blushing again, which is funny in a way cause I used to do that to get guys to swoon over me, I am an actress after all, but this, all the times I blushed in this mess called Vassel in fact, are God given blushes, "T-t-thank you…"

"Just hang in there, kay?" he smiled; I could feel my face burn hotter.

He got up and went over to Lobel, who was talking on the radio. I looked at the window, I could see Jann aim his lance and fire it, and there was the sound of an explosion, though there were sounds like that all over the place now.

I noticed Ramona, with binoculars, saying something to Lobel which he repeated through the radio.

"Everyone, open fire onto the tanks below, keep them pinned down!" Caird.

I found myself, and Abbot also, getting up from our rest and making are way slowly to the windows. Beyond them I could see infantry behind the tank I saw earlier, now with it's tread blown off, they looked to be in a panic.

One broke cover and ran as fast as he could to the bridge, he was sniped and killed.

"They're in a panic! We should get them to surrender!" yelled Susie.

"Not like they'll listen to us! Hell, just keep them pinned down you don't have to actually-" Lobel yelled back, arguing with her.

"But you just ordered a fire mission on them sir, why not order Noce and Marina to-!"

"WELCOME TO FUCKING WAR KID! They'd tried to do the same shit with us! Now follow fucking orders!"

Susie looked like she was about to cry, "… yes sir."

She took position next to me, I tried to comfort her, "Hey… just pretend you're firing, we'll take care of it," I put my hand on her shoulders, like how Salinas did to me, and smiled as best as I can; she burst into sobs while holding her rifle, barrel pointing toward the street below.

Looking out the window, another guy was sniped while behind cover. They made a run for it, leaving behind the tank, just as the artillery pounded the tank into smithereens, and the surrounding pavement with it. Each shell landing caused a mini earthquake for us; I thought the house was going to crumble until the shelling stopped.

"GUN THEM DOWN!" Caird.

We all poured fire, both scout and shock trooper, even Homer with his shotgun, down in the running Imp's direction… except Susie… and Ramona too, she reported in the fire mission's success and got them to stop.

One by one, they dropped to the ground dead. There was still one trying to drag himself, but Marina finished him.

Lobel tried to call an artillery strike near the entrance to the bridge but was denied. So… we waited in the building, watching them retreat. We took turns taking watch, about twenty minutes worth, until the tank column finally made its way toward the bridge entrance.

That's when we truly relaxed, and when Marina and Noce got to our building.

"Good job!" Caird.

"Damn good shooting," Lobel.

Other's started to thank and congratulate them as guys from other units began to occupy the building.

"Just doing our job," said Noce, looking like he knew this was going to happen… that we would win in the end.

Marina, her dark shoulder length hair covering her left high, said nothing and just nodded, showing no sign of human emotion.

I slumped back onto the sofa and passed out.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note: **Well, that's my third chapter… and maybe longest! As always, please give me some comments and criticisms, especially on character traits and whatnot (I'm still not even sure if I got the traits right on the three recruits I picked).

Though no one who commented recommended a recruit, you can do it for the next chapter (though I'm not doing it in a POV format… it's just too damn hard).

Oh, and if there's anything wrong with the Squad 7 roster, please let me know too!

And if there's any typos and such that totally take away from the overall story, please let me know!

**If Anyone's Interested: **I found the translated version of the first volume of Valkyria Chronicles Manga: .com/file/jnmkwznlnmm/Senjou_no_Valkyria_vol1_ENG[3].zip

Hope I'm not breaking any rules.


	4. Comparing the Militia to the Marines

**Author's notes/Disclaimer: **Yay! I got this finished at last. I'm really hoping that it will be enjoyable to those who read it. I'm also looking forward to the Valkyria Chronicles anime coming up in April too, it's off topic… but still.

To Hurricane's Quill: Thanks! I'll keep on going (till June 1st at most… maybe sooner).

To Ominae: I'm trying to catch Peewee's, a character that resides in "Fallen Angels", normal way of communicating. After doing some comparing, I think I'm doing an okay job for an amateur.

To: DragonLord WolfKnight Coker: It's only thanks to the many books I read that deals with warfare ("Fallen Angels", "Soldier Boys", "House to House", "Survival in the Ashes") that I could describe in the way I did. I'm also looking forward to getting a civil war novel by the name of "The Red Badge of Courage".

Now for the disclaimers: I do not own Sega's "Valkyria Chronicles", nor do I own Walter Dean Myers's "Fallen Angels".

**

* * *

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**War Stories: Gallia**

**Chapter 4**

**Comparing the Militia to the Marines**

Peewee, having taken a five hour nap after things in Vassel started to wind down, woke with a headache. The fact that the windows were non existent and there are countless holes, big and small, on the walls can be blamed.

He snorted in mucus as he tried to clear his nose.

"Damn… a cold…" he checked his soundings, the men and women that survived last night, except the one that that had to be medievaced and the others that had to return to their units, were still here. Along with them there were others from other companies using this building as a refuge.

The morning looks cloudless, with the sun just rising above the horizon.

_Well… it's helluva lot better than Nam._

Peewee sneezed, "… can someone gimme a sitrep?"

"Oh, Sergeant Gates; you're awake," said the sniper he saw last night, the one who rescued the sniper under his care, he recognized her dark red hair and sort of British accent… the lead sniper, "You slept well?"

"I'm used to warmer mornings but…" he thought about Nam, it's hot, muggy one-hundred plus degree mornings, "Anyways, about them sitrep…"

"Well, it's that… not them Sergeant-" the lead sniper.

"Keep it Peewee, Mrs.…"

"Oh! Where are my manners," she smiled, "I forgot to introduce myself, Catherine O'Hara if you will."

"Catherine… aren't you with Perry's team?"

"I broke away as soon as I made sure everyone was accounted for in Alpha," she explained, "It's sniper dogma over here in Gallia, it wasn't long before I ran into you at the convoy."

"You were with us?" Peewee.

"Yes, but you and your men disappeared in the fighting. So I helped the tank column for a bit before taking position in this restaurant, you know the story from there," Catherine.

"Yeah, bout that," he looked were Emile and the other 7's, Nadine, Herbert, and Ted, are sitting around, talking to each other like friends would, "I should be sorry for almost getting him killed, your student and all."

Catherine looked in their direction, both could see Ted's smiling face as he cracked a joke and both Emile and Nadine's laughter. By the look of Herbert's face he didn't understand it.

"Emile knew the risks when he became a sniper, what's to be sorry about…?" There was a hint of sadness in her voice, then it disappeared as she explained professionally, "Anyways, both American and Gallian forces have secured Vassel for the moment and 2nd Lt. Welkin ordered all teams to rendezvous at the docks, Pier 5 if I'm not mistaken."

"Aight," Peewee, he gathered everyone that was with him, all of them Sevens, "Alright, gather all your things, were rendezvousing with the L.T. at them docks."

Then he turned to Catherine, "You know where it is right? Cuz I don't."

"Well… I did go over the town maps with the other snipers before embarking on the trucks, but everything's so utterly destroyed and the Imps knocked over most of the signs so…," she smiled apologetically.

* * *

"You guys know where Charlie Company is?" a nineteen year-old medic ran up to them as they walked to the Pier. He seemed more focused on Susie at the moment though, handing her a piece of paper.

"I-I don't know, sorry," Susie, her light brown hair swaying with the wind.

"Where's Dog Company?" A black well built sergeant asked Lobel.

"I saw them awhile back at the bridgehead," Lobel, the only olive drab BDU wearing American among the blue uniformed Gallian unit.

"Thanks!" he ran off.

"Hey, where's the Royal Heights Inn?" a white seventeen years old Gallian Regular asked Caird, the regulars have a lot more metal plated armor than the militia.

Caird, the bald aging Gallian Veteran, "That's two blocks down, take a right, then a left," he gave him the wrong directions due to age.

It's like this as they headed for the docks, there were Gallian and American soldiers walking about, some lost and some with direction. There were many sitting around and socializing, some standing guard, some just bored.

There were others clearing the place of wreckage, supplies, injured, and the dead.

Among them are civilians in ponchos, that the government supplied, they just mostly sat around homeless while the military occupied their homes or found them destroyed by the fighting. There were others who lucked out, but not so much.

"Have you seen my daughter!? She's fifteen, black hair and a white-" a father asked the anti-social sniper Marina.

Marina, her dark hair covering her left brown eye which the guy would have otherwise seen, "I'm sorry…"

The father ran off to other soldiers and asked them.

"Food! Anything, please!" a seven year-old kid in rags begged Edy.

"S-sure hold on!" she rummaged through one of her pockets; she found a little bag of cookies that she's saving for herself. She scowled, but put on a generous face when she handed them over, "Here ya go."

"Thank you Ma'am!" he ran off.

The streets they walk are crawling with people, soldier and normal persons, and the wrecked and working assortment of vehicles, military and domestic, didn't help things.

"Jesus, looks like Bastogne… what the fuck were they doing last night!? Sleeping!?" Lobel asked out loud as he surveyed the ruins as he passed them.

"I was wondering the same thing myself," Salinas, a red headed pretty boy, in Lobel's terms, answered.

"… I thought that having our allies along would give us an advantage… but this," Kevin, a pudgy Asian looking kid.

Homer, the blonde frail looking engineer added, "It looks like they were caught completely off guard-."

"Shut up and keep walking!" Caird ordered.

* * *

"Hey, Sergeant Perry," Juno Coren, a blonde short haired ex-college student turned team lead, woke up Perry.

Still tired from last night's mayhem, his body and head ached, "Ah, Juno… what's up?"

"I just wanted to say that you did pretty well last night, if I'd didn't know any better I'd think you have city fighting down," she smiled as she pushed up her oval glasses up the bridge of her nose.

_Jesus, why is she here… fighting in war, as a Sergeant of all things! _Perry thought to himself, and then concluded that nothing ever does make sense in war, whether here or Nam, "Thank you, that means a lot."

The night before, on the transports, he admitted that he and the other advisors, Gearhart included, did not have much experience when it came to urban warfare.

Hut by hut fighting meant little compared to fighting building by building.

This, of course, scared the boys and girls he was left to advise (except for Theold and Rosie; they held him and the other advisors with contempt); Juno Coren (who's just as much as a cherry as he was, meaning she had no experience in actual fighting whatsoever) and Catherine O'Hara, a middle-aged women and the lead sniper of Squad 7, just told him to leave it to them for now.

Regardless, Perry felt petrified along the way there. The questions and conversations by Catherine and the others friendly toward him, guys by the name of Hermes and Melville among them, did little but help him to cover those feelings up.

He though that the training they gave him, in squad tactics, leadership skills, how to operate communications, how to give commands vocal and silent (hand signals), would do him as much as the tactics taught to him at boot camp did him when he fought the Cong.

He, and basically all infantrymen in general he thought, was ill-trained to fight them… and even when he had spent some time on the field, he's still unsure if what they were doing was right or wrong, much less if it was any help in the war effort.

When the artillery came and blasted the convoy to smithereens, he and his team escaped unscathed then helped escort the LT's mean looking tank, the Edelweiss, into the city along with the surviving tank column. It wasn't long till Catherine, who had been taking shots at unsuspecting high priority targets, split from us.

Surprisingly, he found himself leading them well (with the help of Juno) using fire superiority tactics they taught him. Through the chaos, the deaths of the person next to you, the screams of the dying and hurt… he survived it and even rose among it.

Perry looked around the warehouse where Squad 7 has been assigned, everyone in Alpha team got through unscathed, most of Echo team made it through alright minus Peewee and Nadine (Wavy, the sergeant of Echo, paced the warehouse worrying about the other two… Perry felt the same about Peewee).

Bravo team has yet to show up, but Welkin told him that he and Largo made it through all right and on their way. They're missing a Herbert and Ted (the goof ball that he met at the R&D facility) though. Charlie team is okay too, Alpha and Charlie being the only teams that hadn't split up after the shells hit. Delta, after an all night search for their members, finally regrouped and is heading to the rendezvous point.

So everyone is accounted for and living save Peewee, Ted, Herbert, Nadine, and Catherine.

… And maybe the LT too, Perry doesn't see him anywhere.

"Ummm, Juno?"

"Yeah, what is it?" Juno, looking at a folded looking black and white photo while sitting on a crate.

"Have you seen the LT anywhere," Perry asked.

"I think he went to a strategy meeting to discuss the next course of action, all Squad COs in the Militia do that," she said as a matter of fact.

"Okay, thanks."

"No problem," she smiled. She then turned her attention to the palm sized photo, from what Perry could see it had a picture of her in a dress with two other guys. He didn't look for long, not wanting to be rude, and got up to look for the Platoon Sergeant to see how things are going.

The Platoon Sergeant, a friendly (almost ditzy) country girl Alicia Melchoitt almost his age, was talking to two members of the tank crew that manned the Edelweiss tank.

"Sergeant Melchoitt, do you know if the other five were found yet?"

She turned to him, as Dallas, the dark fuzzy haired girl that Peewee tried to flirt with twice (and failed), gave him a distrustful look, "Actually I got into contact with Catherine awhile, she found them and they're on their-."

"Alicia!" Isara, the cute shorthaired sister of the LT, popped up from the tank hatch, "It's Staff Sergeant Gates on the line!"

_Peewee?_

She received the headset that Tank commanders used to radio others (though it seemed to Perry that everyone manning a tank used them over here) and put them on, "This is 1st Class Sergeant Melchoitt here… okay, can you tell me were you're at… there's no signs up, try asking someone around…."

"Here you go Miss Alicia," Dallas cheerfully handed her a map; this struck Perry odd for a moment.

"Thanks Dallas… East Side Street? Alright, give me a second… okay, just go straight 'till you-."

_Geez, they're fucking lost! _Perry thought about it more, _then again, the others are having trouble finding us too…_

"Um, Staff Sergeant Perry," Alicia handed him the head set, "Gates wants to talk to you."

He took it and put it on, "It's me Peewee."

"Yo man, is everyone there yet?" Peewee.

"Not yet, though everyone's accounted for except you guy's," Perry, "but the other teams haven't showed up yet, save the mortar team."

"Damn, poor bastard must've been worried about his daughter all night."

"Who's daughter?" Perry asked.

"Wavy's daughter Nadine, you know man… the engineer girl we met back-."

Perry heard other voices, thinking it's Nadine's and Catherine's, one's asking Peewee to check on her father, the other (in a British accent… maybe Irish) suggesting that they head for the rendezvous, "You know what man, we'll just meet up with ya! Peewee out!"

* * *

Staff Sergeant Monaco was leading the line, just marching through the crowd of people near the entrance of the so-called Great Vassel Bridge.

They were asked many questions, mostly about directions to a certain unit or place, and some questions about missing peoples (mostly by civvies, and a few Gallian and American soldiers too), which Yoko Martins, a thirty-seven year old ex-chef and team lead of Delta Team.

Monaco guessed she used to frequent this city for her to know it so well, Aisha, the twelve year old shock trooper girl, asked for him, "How do you know this place so well Miss Yoko?"

"Well… long story short, I used to live here a while back," she answered.

"Did you used to have an eatery here?" Lynn, a twenty year old Darcsen shock trooper.

"No actually… that was something I did after the first war," Yoko said, somewhat sadly.

No more questions were asked about Yoko.

It seemed like the enemy deliberately knocked over and destroyed every street sign in and about the city. This made it nearly impossible to know where they were, much less where to go. Luckily they had Yoko as a Sergeant.

"Hey Sergeant!" the gung-ho, monocle/eye patch wearing Vyse ask, "You know how those flying machines up in the sky work?"

"Not really, all I know is those rotors on top of the chopper keep it in the sky," Monaco explained, "other than that, I know shit about them."

Mica Hawkins, a glasses wearing, depressed looking shock trooper, "You'd think that we'll be able have some of those?"

"That's what I was about to ask," Vyse, "I wouldn't mind flying around in those babies!"

"First off, we sorta gave the ARVN some choppers so expect some to come your guy's way," Monaco.

"ARVN?" Mica.

"The guy's we were helping before coming here," Monaco explained, "hell if I know what it stands for… and you'll need them too, especially after last night's performance."

"I have to admit, they'd did a number on us… wonder what happened to Emile," Vyse.

"Emile… I forget, who is he?" Monaco.

"You're a team leader and you don't know your own guy's name? He's our only sniper too!" Mica, more like a condemnation than a question.

"First off, it's my first day and I can't get anyone's name in one day," Monaco, looking rather annoyed, "Second, I'm an advisor, not a team lead like Yoko."

"Geez calm down, I didn't mean it like that," Mica.

The city street already behind them, the team's walking along the Vassel canal, the morning light reflecting off its blue waters, the ruins of the other half of the city clearly seen across the waters. Even here, there were people running to and fro, oblivious to the presence of snipers on both sides of the canal.

"You sounded like it ass-hole," Monaco

"Hey Mr. Advisor guy," Cherry, the blonde valley girl, "like, calm down or you'll blow a vein or something."

"Alright," Monaco thought she's annoying, thanks to the way she talked, "calming down man… you guys don't have to make me look like a jackass here."

Nancy Dufour, a young beret wearing girl with giant red glasses, "Ummm, I don't think that was the case here Sergeant."

"Look, let's just talk about something else," Monaco suggested (looking rather annoyed), he looked to the rear, pass Cherry and Nancy, to Ramsey Clement.

She's, a young girl about the same age as Nancy with dark brown hair the same color as her eyes, looking across the canal almost in a daze.

"Hey, engineer girl! You awake?" Monaco called out.

Not bursting awake as he thought she would, she just lazily said, "Uhhh, right… gacha…"

_Is she high or something?_

Monaco didn't have time to dwell on that thought; he heard something hit the brick wall beside him, making a small hole through it. It was a bullet, it almost hit him… almost killed him. It was a little longer till the report of the rifle was heard.

"HIT THE DIRT!!!!" he screamed, everyone dove for the ground.

"Sniper! Take cover!"

"Hit the deck!"

"Someone throw a smoke!"

Others around them did the same, civilian or soldier, wither that or sought after cover. It wasn't long before a rifle report could be heard from their side of the canal.

A moment longer…, "I bagged one! My first kill!" it came from the top of the building, Monaco thought from the attic.

"Shut up or you'll get hit from another one!" Monaco though it was his spotter.

"Alright, everyone behind the buildings. We're almost there anyhow," Yoko ordered.

* * *

"I wonder if Ted and that engineer got out alright," Montley asked, a guy of fifteen with a band aid on his nose.

"Who knows, its best not to think about those things kid," Johnson, trying to carry the Heavy MG on his back with belts of MG ammo crisscrossing his back and chest.

"Come on Johnson, you have to be more positive than that," Freesia said, her cute Indian looking face smiling, "Didn't they teach you that at Basic?"

Johnson tried to keep a straight face, "Just trying to be realistic here."

"You have a lot to learn then," Largo, a big guy that heaved that monster lancer that his type, Lancers, used to destroy tanks, "You can't just keep acting down all the time."

"… Got it," Johnson.

Making their way through the crowd, Largo was on point, Johnson, Ted, and Freesia right behind him.

Jane Turner, her hair dark and skin pale, was right behind him talking about last night's mayhem with Hannes Salinger, a big, tough but dumb looking shock trooper.

"Those bloody Imps ran before we could get a bead on them," Jane Turner, she looked emotionless, a far cry from what she looked like last night.

"If I were a Imp… I would run from MG too," Hannes, he reminded Johnson of a Looney Tunes type of character, one that seems to always lose out to Bugs Bunny types because of their stupidity.

Johnson leaned over to Freesia, "What's the deal with her? She's all quiet then once shit happens she just goes insane," Johnson recalled how she fought, and how tough it was just to restrain her and get her to obey orders. In the end, they had to get big Hannes to do it.

"From what she told me she lost her flower shop when they declared war," Freesia said as a matter of fact.

"When'd you hear that? You two were actually talking?" Montley asked, looking surprised. When he and Ted tried talking to her, she looked apathetic and disinterested, just answering questions and that's it.

"Well, yeah. It's just questions and answers though," Freesia said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, she's the crazy type that get's people killed," Johnson concluded, "We'll have to keep a close eye on her."

Behind them, Oscar, a fifteen year old sniper with a cross shaped scar on his head, is talking to a shy looking shock trooper, Dorothy Howard.

There was a worried look on Oscar's face.

Behind them is Nils, a lancer guy with a strong build and keeps to himself most of the time, taking the rear position. He looked deep in thought, but alert at the same time.

"I-I think he's alright, he's a sniper so… they wouldn't put him in front or anything," Dorothy, trying to act assuring.

Oscar looked at her and smiled, "I sure hope you're right."

* * *

The rendezvous point, another warehouse, is in shambles. There were holes on the roof where light filtered in, the wooden floors are rotting as are the walls, all the windows are shattered with none boarded up, and you couldn't walk anywhere without almost stepping on a rodent or bug (the younger females in the squad constantly yelped).

It's like this for all the militia units stationed there.

"So man, how'd you do last night?" Peewee, all the advisors, save Gearhart, got into a little group.

All teams made it and everyone is accounted for, no injured or dead. Perry wondered how long till that luck ran out. Everyone split off into their own little cliques, which included the team leads and the advisors.

Well… except for a few like Marina and Nils, they spent their time alone checking their weapons. Largo split from his unit upon arrival to talk to on of his friends, a LT from a different unit.

Perry explained that his team mostly hid behind Welkin's tank and sprayed anything that looked remotely like anything that could hurt a tank. They cleared a few buildings in the process, with the help of the tank obliterating anything that could hurt them with its 88mm gun. He also mentioned that Wendy, a beanie wearing shock trooper with dark face camo, seemed to hurl an endless supply of grenades at the Imps.

Somewhere in the background, Emile and Oscar are arguing with one another about something that happened last night. The advisors didn't pay them any attention though.

"I honestly have no clue were she's hiding all of them," Perry.

"She probable has one under her hat too, she does look cute though," Monaco.

"She's sounds like she's on the crazy side though, plus she's twenty-five man," Perry.

"What'd you mean by crazy?" Peewee.

"Well… she likes talking about explosives when someone actually talks to her, and that the other shock troopers in his unit are wary of her," Perry.

"So, she doesn't sound too bad," Johnson.

Johnson's team was ordered into a sandbagged house that the Imps took over and used, dodging MG fire by some miracle, they made it to the house and fragged the first floor. It just went to hell from there.

"- and get this, this crazy bitch just ran up the stairs, all by herself, and cleared it with no injury to herself," Johnson, careful to keep his voice low so she wouldn't overhear, "before we could step in the second she was already on the top floor, fucking shooting they asses and laughing maniacally at the same time."

"Damn… I wish she was in my squad," Monaco.

"I wish she was in Nam with us," Lobel, "we could've used her."

Johnson, frowning, "Hell no, if she did that over here, imagine her in a ambush all firing before you give the order."

With Johnson's point made, everyone was thankful that Jane was in Johnson's team, and not theirs.

"Sucks to be you Johnson," Monaco.

"It is sucking pretty badly man," Johnson, he then finished his story, saying that he set up a machine gun nest, only to find out that the enemy a couple of streets ahead cleared out, so he wasn't able to shoot at anything.

Monaco then explained his and his unit's role in the fight, saying that they were fighting it out with a never ending attack of Imps. They were able to push them back into a building; Yoko used her lance to blow a hole into it and caught a lot of them off guard. When she ordered Nancy, one of the scouts in his unit, to throw in a grenade…

"She fucking dropped it, dropped a live grenade… their grenades make ours look like fire crackers by the way," Monaco, looking rather amused.

"What'd you mean?" Peewee.

"Their grenades our able to take whole rooms out, ours just throws little pieces of shrapnel around in hopes of actually hitting somebody," Monaco explained, "Anyways, she tried picking it up but she fumbled with it. Unsure of what to do she just yelled 'Grenade!' and dove to the ground."

"Wow, that's some screw up you have there," Lobel, laughing.

"I'm not done, after the grenade blew… which knocked the senses out of all of us, the bastards ran up the stairs. So we blew another hole outside the house on the second floor then we all started passing live grenades to that monocle pirate as he threw them in, the guy has a good arm," Monaco.

"Monocle pirate… you mean that Vyse guy?" Lobel.

Monaco, "Yeah, doesn't he look like a pirate?"

"How's that twelve year old do?" Perry, changing the subject.

"She was scared shitless like you expect, but she did alright," Monaco.

Lobel asked something on his mind, "… what about those lances, I don't know about you guys but I think they're stronger than what we-," he wasn't able to finish due to the ruckus that erupted.

Apparently the advisors were so focused on their conversation that they failed to notice an argument near the tank that grew into a one-sided shoving match, Isara on the losing side.

Before the advisors could get up and stop the fight, Juno and Alicia jumped in with the latter tending to her.

"What an exaggeration!" taunted Brigitte Stark, or Rosie, "I only gave your shoulder a little push, some use you'll be to us," there was contempt in her voice.

Alicia, sullen but loud in her order, "Corporal Brigitte Stark! You should not fight with your comrades!"

_For a Platoon Sergeant she doesn't sound all that convincing,_ Perry thought.

Rosie thought the same thing, "Hey, I'm just telling her how useful this sickly Darcsen brat is," smiling, enjoying them moment, "she and her kind will just be a burden on the battlefield."

"What the hell's up with you and Darcsens lady!?" Peewee, jumped up. All his friends with him stood up, ready to pull him back if he tried anything.

"That's right; you don't know anything about these Darcsens since you're all foreigners," she said, as she knew what she was talking about.

"Alright that's enough Brigi-," Juno's order's ignored, Perry thought she sounded more forceful than Alicia but…

"Since the old days these guys have been good for nothing but trouble and bad luck… like last night."

She turned her attention to Peewee, "You honestly think we can fight next to unlucky people like that!"

"Saying that Darcsens cause bad luck for this unit is like saying that you're all missing stuff cause us black people keep stealing shit!" Peewee answered with anger.

He didn't notice the two scowling faces narrowing their eyes on him, both black.

"You think you could've had another example?" Perry whispered to Peewee, he could hear Lobel and Monaco's chuckling in the background somewhere, though the others in Squad 7 shared confused looks and some with skeptical looks (Peewee just gave them another reason not to trust them).

The Darcsen group, situated near the LT's Edelweiss tank, held back one of their own, a sergeant and father to Nadine named Wavy, while the argument went on. Aika, though not a Darcsen herself, held back Vyse too. None of them had to use as much force as the advisors to hold someone back.

"Certainly-," Isara, brushing her hair away from her face and getting on her two feet, "Certainly we are Darcsens, across Europa we are persecuted for the blood of our ancestors," her voice, with each passing word, gained more strength, "but… we are humans just like you!"

"What did you say!?" Rosie, outraged that Isara would compare Darcsens to the rest of humanity, "Darcsens are nothing like us!"

"Ummm… maybe you guys should stop…" Aisha suggested, not very audible over the argument, Monaco and a few others heard her though. She's with a few friends, Claudia, Dallas, and Hanes (Dallas looked like she wanted to beat Rosie to a bloody pulp).

"Or you'll do what," an irritated voice asked out, the guy who said it was a well built guy with blonde hair in a straight short hair style… it reminded Monaco of Elvis Presley, "Hey kid, you some kind of Darcsen lover?"

"Darcsen lover…?" the kid obviously didn't know what the term meant (Monaco deduced it to be a term for people who like Darcsens), Monaco started toward the two but someone else got in their before he did.

"Hey lay off partner!" It was Vyse, Monaco's "monocle pirate", "she's just a kid."

The blonde lancer, Monaco thought he's in Perry's unit, looked Vyse up and down as if sizing him up, "hmph… whatever," and then paid him no other attention.

"-even with the Americans helping us it won't be a cake walk!" Rosie, the argument went unabated, "The less trouble if you ask me, no matter what you say Darcsens are-."

"Will you all just drop it!?" Welkin in his blue officer uniform, Gearhart in the usual olive drab behind him, interrupted things, "What the hell's going on here!?"

"You're our LT right?" Rosie asked, "Even if I don't say it you should understand right! This brat, she's a Darcsen!"

"We can't fight alongside no Darcsen," Largo, the big lance wielding team lead of Bravo, spoke almost out of nowhere, Johnson thought he was still talking to his friend till now, "especially since what happened last night."

"Largo! What are you-!?" Juno, once again cut off.

"Lieutenant Welkin, incompetent leaders get more of our buddies killed than the enemy, you know?" Largo, puffing on his cigarette before speaking more, "no one is going to listen to a guy like that, no one wants to die."

Welkin stayed quiet, as did everyone else including the advisors, all attention is on Largo. Welkin, however, remained undeterred.

"Keep that in mind and we'll get through the next assignment well enough," though imposing, he spoke like he would to a son, "no one is going to except excuses no matter how many times they're said."

"Assignment…?" Alicia asked.

"Hey Largo!? What're you talking about!?" Ted asked from somewhere in the warehouse.

Largo explained, looking kind of sad yet stern, "I got old friends in the Regular Army… the entire 3rd Militia Regiment is to retake Vassel Bridge…" what he added next sent a chill down the spine of every Gallian Seven, "to retake the Imp command post on the other side of the canal with no support from the main army but a few American platoons."

Even the loners in Squad 7 winced at the demand; Catherine O'Hara, who was checking her scope and rifle rather than listen to the exchange, shuddered for she knew how badly misused the Militia was, a military organization meant to protect the flanks and rear of the Main Army as they advance, in the last war fifteen years ago… being a young veteran.

She feels that history is repeating itself.

"Just how do they mean for us to accomplish that!" Melville, a Mohawk sporting scout of Alpha (Perry thought he was some sort of hippie when he talked with him).

"No matter how much training we do that's impossible!" Nina Streiss, a dark short haired shock trooper in Delta, yelled out.

"Most of our soldiers haven't been soldiers long! Why…" Juno Coren, sounding distressed.

"Man, doesn't the Main Army have guys specially trained for this!" yelled out Perry, "I mean, I talked to a few of them before we were shipped for Vassel!"

He did, the guy's he was referring to were better armed than even most Americans were, they had a lot of ammo clips, grenades, and a lot of gear strapped onto them and their backs. One of the lancers even claimed that he had on him twelve rockets a peace (though his lancer weapon looked more like a RPG).

In a way, they reminded him of marines that had yet to see actual combat and how they were often the first to be sent in.

The assignment they were being ordered to do, is something that the much tougher Marines did.

"Apparently… high command thought they were too expensive to waste," Largo grimly admitted.

"Welkin… is that true?" Alicia asked him.

"It's a mistake to say the General Army won't be giving us any support, the Americans will be giving us plenty of support anyways…," Welkin corrected, not backing down, "But instead they will begin their advance after the Militia forces a bridgehead."

"That can't be right!" Cherry, who just dropped her fashion magazine at Largo's news. She and a few other girls in her group, Audrey (a brunette lancer) and Ramona (an ex-model turned Scout), and also Edy shared the same look.

"Are they telling us to die!?" Claudia yelled, just as outraged as her Darcsen friends.

"Can they live peacefully having stepped onto the corpses of the militia?" Mica said to Dorothy Howard, disgusted with the Main Army's decision, "It's not like the Americans would be any help."

"This has to be a lie," Dorothy said in response.

"Hey! Us Americans could kick more ass than you people ever will!" Peewee, after overhearing "comments" about the U.S.'s role last night.

"Don't make me laugh!" Rosie, "they're the ones who almost lost the city in the first place! Some soldiers you guys turned out to be!"

"You wanna say that to my-!" Peewee, jumping to his feet.

"Peewee goddamn it!" Lobel, he and Johnson held him from doing anything stupid.

Rosie continued, "It turns out the U.S. and Main Army are no help for the unlucky Darcsens!" she held up a hand as to point out her so-called truth, "So that's how it is huh? You can't be upfront with the operation!"

She accused him more, "If this fails do you plan to just say sorry!?"

Perry wondered why Gearhart wasn't intervening, but Welkin's answer to Rosie made him drop that question, "I have no intention of apologizing."

He continued, with more power to his voice than before, "I will not use my men as sacrificial lambs…" he turned to Largo, "Using Squad 7, I will retake Vassel Bridge within 48 hours."

Everyone gawked at that challenge, advisors too.

"Welkin… do you know what you're-?" Gearhart, who was calm before just looked as shocked as everyone else.

He continued, "Sergeant Potter, let's make a wager," Largo, who let his cigarette fall out of his mouth after hearing Welkin's declaration, is silent, "If my plans work, you'll follow my commands. If I fail, I'll resign as a CO."

"Welkin!" Alicia, distressed at what she was hearing. Juno looked equally distressed.

"Interesting," Largo, now smiling, "You won't forget your words, right?"

Lobel leaned in to Perry, "Our LT's insane I think… how the fuck is he gonna do it under forty-eight hours."

Perry didn't have a clue to what he's planning but guessed anyways, "… maybe we could cross the river or something, I don't know."

**

* * *

**

**More Authors' Notes: **There's a reference to Battlefield Bad Company in here somewhere, but I leave you guys to find it.

Anyways, please leave a few comments after reading to help me write better. As always, please tell me which recruit character from the game you want to see more of (also, if there are a few recruit characters really off from what they're really like, please tell me!).

As for the anime that's coming out: If they follow the "Band of Brothers" and/or "Saving Private Ryan" format… then it'll be one helluva show, just my opinion.


	5. Watching Planes Drop Bombs

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers: **Hey all, finally got done with another Vietnam era US Forces/Gallia Military combined arms fiction. This story was supposed to be part of another chapter actually, but it turned out too big to post. So I'll just post this one then, once I'm finished, post the other one within a week.

I'm mostly following the Manga version of Valkyria Chronicles but will head back to the game version in due time.

To Captain Apollo: Correct! Thank you for reading my fanfic, and about how they got there in the first place… I'll leave a hint here or there.

To Dark Knight Gafgar: If you thought the game scene of this was bad, wait till you read the manga version of it (Rosie f'ing punks Isara! Grrrrr!!!). Plus, your wish for the "Skies of Arcadia" gang is granted; go and read my fic…

To Hurricane's Quill: Gotta love Bad Company, even though I only watched it via YouTube (I don't have a PS3 or a 360 to play, sadly) I enjoyed Bravo 1 Charlie's efforts to get rich quick, if only I could play it. Another thing, I don't know if it's just me but I didn't find Rosie's character all that hard to duplicate (it's probably all the stuff I have on the game).

Before I forget: _Valkyria Chronicles_ belongs to Sega while _Fallen Angels _belongs to Walter Dean Hughes. (If you read his book, and find the characters a bit off… well, sorry about that.)

**War Stories: Gallia**

**Chapter 5**

**Watching Planes Drop Bombs**

!!!

Though they only had about five to seven hours worth of sleep, the advisors (once again… minus Gearhart) had the energy to complain and moan about the LT and his bet to retake the bridge "within 48 hours".

People, soldier and civilian, went to and fro. There's a sound of thunder in the skies, causing many to look up, with far off explosions peppering the thunderous sound. Fighter jets are in the sky.

"We got a dickhead for a LT!" Peewee, his black self catching a lot of passer by's attention by his complaining, "I told ya he was gonna get a lot of us killed!"

They seen it before, the planes flying the sky, so just went their way.

"Peewee," Lobel, one of the "calmer" types within the squad (he says it's because of his Jewish heritage), corrects him while sighing inwardly, "First off, he hasn't got any of us killed."

Peewee frowned at him in anger as Lobel continued, "Secondly… he'll end up getting some of us killed if he doesn't come up with anything smart, so you're right about one thing Peewee."

"That's what I meant!"

Johnson, his tallness made him a constant target for Peewee's jokes and insults, added, "You said it sorta in a past tense shit head."

"Past tense, present tense, why the hell does it makes a difference schlong!?" Peewee, his anger causing people to watch, both the blue uniformed and partially armored Gallian and olive drab BDU wearing American, not to forget a few civilians, in anticipation for a fight.

"It actually does man," Perry, almost as tall as Johnson (also a pretty good basketball player too), added as he face palmed himself. _There gonna fight again, I just know it._

After the standoff between Largo and Welkin, the whole unit was given a sort of extra long lunch break. They were to meet back at the docks at 1800 hours, give or take the many that end up getting lost for one reason or the other.

So the advisors, after facing multiple questions about what Welkin had in mind in retaking the Vassel Bridge, walked toward the cratered market place for something to eat as the warm overhead sun shined with no clouds.

"Why's your red head midget self looking up at me?" Johnson, glaring back at Peewee in contempt.

"I got to thinking… maybe your Eiffel Tower sized ass doesn't have what it takes to take me!" Peewee said back, cheerful and irritated at the same time.

Like two boxers in the ring, the two, on a set distance, one taller than the other, they readied to go all out. They would've if Perry hadn't got in the way.

"Break it up! We got enough problems as it is!" Perry yelled as he jumped in the middle of them.

"Oh come on Perry!" Monaco, scratching his dark blonde hair, "It's been awhile since I saw a good fight!"

"Just let them at it Perry," Lobel, almost as tall as Perry, his helmet covering his chocolate covered hair "Let' em burn out some steam will ya!"

Their cries were joined by others wanting to see a fight, as if they appeared out of nowhere.

"HEY! ARE YOU AMERICANS WITH SQUAD 7!?" someone's voice drowned out their cries, a lady's voice to be exact.

Everyone, the advisors and onlookers, turned to the voice. A green and pink checkered flat cap, a white button up shirt with the cuffs folded back, dark green suit trousers, and camera gear.

Her clothes practically screamed the word "reporter".

There was another following her, but the advisors were too focused on the reporter.

"… Yeah, we're with Squad 7," Monaco, raising an eyebrow "Are you some sort of reporter?"

"You betcha! As of now I'm embedded with Squad 7, same as you guys!" she smiled; they saw her blonde hair, "Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Wait… what? Embedded?" Perry, looking like he's trying to push Peewee and Johnson away from each other but were somehow frozen in time.

"Yeah, I don't think you guys heard yet, but I got permission from the 2nd Lieutenant himself," the reporter said.

"You mean Welkin?" Lobel, looking rather confused, "You mind telling me why?" Then he noticed another blonde, in Gallian uniform with a big, white, suitcase like device with some sort of electrical device in it seen via glass, "And who're you?"

The soldier girl, "Excuse me Sir; I'm Private Fina Silvite, a medic just assigned to Squad 7," Lobel guessed that box she carried around had something to do with her being a medic, "Anyways I had trouble finding were Squad 7's posted until I ran into Mrs. Ellet and 2nd Lieutenant Welkin."

"Our medic huh? Well, Pier 9 is just eight blocks down," Monaco, pointing down the street, "then take a right; it's the warehouse with the unique tank in it."

"You mean the Edelweiss?" the medic asked, but just shook her head and saluted, "Thank you for the help Sir," and then went her way.

Most of the onlookers have left too, seeing as there wouldn't be a fist fight.

"Wonder what her box does?" Peewee, forgetting his confrontation with Johnson.

"Maybe it carries her medical supplies or something," Johnson, he didn't forget but acted like he did.

"Nah, it definitely does something. I mean, didn't you see all that electrical shit inside?" Peewee.

"Well…it actually does something kid," Everyone turned toward the reporter, "It's called a ragnaid defibrillator, it's used to heal wounds and act as a pain killer when applied to the human body."

"Ragnaid?" Perry, looking confused.

"Defibrillator?" Peewee, looking equally confused despite there being a similar device back in his home country.

It's safe to say that all of them knew not what ragnaid is.

"Oh yeah, you guys are foreigners from another planet. Of course you wouldn't know what ragnaid is," she acted cheerful, almost too cheerful for someone who's a reporter, "Anyways, my name is Ellet, Ellet of GBS Radio Broadcast Office."

Before anyone could introduce themselves, "Before you introduce yourselves we should find a more quiet place," she looked around, "That restaurant over there should do!"

"Oh… what? Hold on! Why would we let you interview-?" Perry, cut off by Ellet.

"Because I have the inside scoop of not only 2nd Lt. Welkin's plans but the guy's you'll be facing across that canal," Ellet, her face still looking happy, though her eyes had the same threatening look of a predator.

That grabbed the advisors attention.

"Lead on…" Perry.

!!!

The pier had the smell of rotten fish, which was more prevalent inside it's buildings rather than outside; so most of Squad 7 left to take a look around Vassel, leaving a few to sleep, except the tank crew of the Edelweiss, looking over the tank for any problems.

Vyse Inglebard, an eye patch/monocle wearing shock trooper in team Delta 7-4 of Squad 7, just sat on a rusting metal chair placed on the planks. He wanted only a breath of fresh air, the smell of fish could be nauseating, but the thunderous roar in the clear skies above caught his attention and grabbed hold of him.

These flying machines were different from the fixed rotor ones; with none they streak through the sky in high speeds that a copter couldn't fly. Vyse could see the thing had two large wings, and elongated body, and two smaller wings at the end and maybe a tail fin. Vyse couldn't make them out, but he suspected that the thing that the air craft carried under its wings were bombs due to the sound of an explosion after every pass they made on the city.

Or, at least it looked like it was bombing the city itself. The craft would fly low, just above the city, at high speeds. It would disappear for a bit, then Vyse would see it again, this time flying upwards, there would be an explosion right after.

There was no smoke coming from within the city, more like behind it and quite a lot of it, like there was a wild fire. The Imps in the city are trying to fend it off with MG fire and small arms fire, tracers flying at the craft's approaching direction, but it wasn't working.

Vyse wasn't the only one looking, the Pier itself is filled with people looking at the chaos across the canal and the flying machines causing said chaos.

To Vyse, who felt as worried as everyone else (_Retake the city bridge in forty-right hours! Are you nuts!?_), just seeing the damage those craft brought on the Imps… it gave him hope.

It gave hope to all those watching, hope that they could win.

"Hey Vyse baby," it's Aika, her orange hair resembling wings to some, "watching the fire works?"

"Heh, you could say that," Vyse, smiling his trademark daredevil grin, "remember those hovering machines, I think they're called choppers, we saw when those Americans first came?"

"You want to fly those machines above us right now, right?" Aika guessed, well remembering him wanting to fly as a kid (always jumping off of trees with makeshift wooden wings too), "You're not the only one," she sat next to him.

Vyse stood up, acting daring as usual, "forget choppers, I wanna fly whatever's up there!"

"Typical, so do you have any idea how'd you do that?" Aika asked, "And what makes you think that we'll get machines as advanced as these?"

"Uhhh…" he didn't think that far, his thought process told him that he'll someday fly them, "Well, one of the advisors said that they'll be giving us the choppers-."

A loud thunder, a plane flew low, spreading the water apart in waves as it flew past and fired its 20mm gatling cannon on the city itself. Its nose forward, the rounds penetrating brick and mortar buildings, it wasn't very accurate but enough to scare the hell out of the Imps.

Needless to say, it grabbed their attention. Aika continued once the strafing run was done.

"They may as well give us some choppers, but those things up there?" She pointed up, toward the machines flying fast and high, "You'd think that they'll give us something as advanced as that?"

Vyse feigned annoyance, "Geez, do you always have to rain on my parade?"

She smiled, "just giving you a dose of reality, that's all," taunting him. It's not like Vyse was really annoyed by her, they've been squabbling like this since childhood. As a matter of fact, he rather enjoyed her company, as much as…

"There you guy's are!" yelled a familiar voice.

Vyse and Aika recognized her shoulder length blonde hair and blue

"Fina!? Well it took you long enough!" Vyse greeted, patting her hard on the shoulder and almost knocking her over.

"How'd your training go?" Aika asked, glad that another of her friends got through training alright.

"It's nothing I can't handle," she smiled, placing the machine she carried like a briefcase on the wooden planks they stood on, "I should be asking you guys after what happened."

"You mean last night?" Vyse, "It was nothing! We drove those Imps out in a flash."

"No casualties in our Squad too," Aika grinned.

"That's good," she chuckled, "if this keeps up then maybe I won't have to do much of anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure, sooner or later…" Vyse caught himself, "No, there won't be a scratch on us! We'll be all heroes once this war-"

A pinging sound, a bullet hitting something metallic; a body fell over beside them. He's in olive drab uniform, his helmet fell a few feet away from him… there's a hole on it.

"SNIPER!" someone yelled out.

It wasn't long before they saw what they've been unconsciously ignoring, blood on the man's head.

Everyone on the docks stampeded for cover, running over a few who fell in the panic or dropped to the ground. There were a few who dove into the canal for cover.

Vyse was about t be one of those few, "Dammit!"

"He's still alive!" Fina, a finger on the guy's neck.

Aika helped Fina drag him while Fina dragged him with one hand and lift the heavy machine she carried with the other, "Vyse!"

Vyse got the man by his feet and lifted him off the ground with Aika and Fina's help, "GO GO GO!"

They sprinted for the safety of the warehouses, splintered wood flying up as snipers tried to strike them. There were others too, soldiers and civilians trying to get the wounded out of harms way, many were struck by the unseen bullets.

They had no weapons to fight them… but even if they did they would still be defenseless with no idea were the sniper is and their guns not able to cover the distance to reach them.

Luckily, the snipers on their side of the canal found targets… the very snipers firing on them, and shot them carefully and deliberately, hidden themselves.

It wasn't long after till there were bombing runs on the city itself, particularly the buildings and docks resting near the canal.

!!!

The people around them seem to move with more purpose than usual. The sun on high is slowly setting eastward, as the hours passed. In skies, the thunders of fighter planes are gone, replaced with the roar of spotter planes as they fly over the opposite end of the city. Choppers added to the cascade of sound, moving to and fro on the outskirts of Vassel.

"Operation Spring Storm… talk about sugar coating eh fellas?" Monaco, too cheerful for his friends taste at the moment, especially Perry.

"Yeah… damn awfully poetic, like its gonna happen in a breeze," Peewee, grimacing at what the reporter said about how the Militia is viewed by the "Main Army", "The thing is they fight so good as they do, yet they're treated like trash."

Johnson was just mostly quiet, still wondering how the hell Welkin was going to drive his tank under water (if what Ellet the reporter said was accurate).

Lobel, "More like meat shields," he looked apathetic but is sad inside.

Perry showed them the bright side, "Well, at least they have us Americans at their side… right?"

Peewee lightly punched them on his arm, "Damn right! God knows what would happen if they didn't have us."

"Hey guys," said a soft and friendly voice.

The guys looked around and saw a cute short-haired and short framed body looking Asian-like girl in Gallian uniform and a shawl, Isara Gunther, "Any news on just how my brother is going to pull the 'forty-eight hours' thing off?"

"We have an idea Isara," Peewee answered, "Basically Welkin and you guys are gonna drive the tank underwater and clear a beach head while we cross over on boats."

"Underwater… but the canal has to be deep for ships to cross right?" she asked, her hand holding her chin while the other hand supported her arm, "even if we water proof the tank, we still won't be able to cross."

"Well Ellet said something about the LT looking for shallow waters with reeds in them," Monaco explained.

"…Ellet?" Isara.

"She's one of those reporter types now embedded with us," Johnson, "Thanks to Welkin."

"I think I know who you're talking about, it must be the same person that interviewed me a little while ago," Isara mused.

"You too huh?" Perry.

"Pretty much, though she didn't tell me a thing about our coming operation," she smiled.

"She must be just telling us COs and NCOs I guess," Lobel, "She interviewed you about dreams, home, and the like?"

"Not really, she just asked about my brother and me wanting to fly him," she smiled as she explained.

"What-?" Perry didn't have time to elaborate, as he saw the view in front of him.

It started with Perry accidently kicking something round. He looked down and saw a perfectly round mud ball, then there was another, and another… it all led into an enormous mound of mud balls on the side of the road.

"What's all…?" Perry then noticed two figures beside said pile, a muddied Platoon Sergeant by the name of Alicia Melchoitt (HIS PLATOON SERGEANT) and a tank commander by the look of his blue uniform and the map and binoculars hanging around his neck. If he had to guess, the guy was just flirting with panicky looking Sergeant.

"Ummm… what're all doing?" Isara asked.

"Hey guys," Alicia, sitting near the said pile with her face as muddy as her blue uniform with a skirt and looking quite distressed despite the happy look she tries to put up, "Would you like one of my mud dumplings?"

The tank commander, someone with long brown hair reaching to his ears, a pretty boy in Peewee's terms, just faced palm himself.

"… Did you make all these yourself?" Monaco, wondering if she went off the deep end.

"Ummm, you alright Sarge?" Peewee, thinking the exact same thing.

All the advisors asked the same thing in thought actually.

"All the dirt that was dug up is the exact same size and shape," Isara noted as she examined the pile, her hand holding her chin up like she was thinking, "You must have taken so much time making these one by one."

"Aha…" Alicia, trying to look cheerful despite the maelstrom of worry and fear inside.

"These are all very skillfully made," Isara, being over and examining the mud balls as if she were an archeologist. She then looked to Alicia, "For you to take the time to make this many must mean they are essential to the upcoming operation."

Everyone just looked at Isara, save Alicia who just looked at her work of art in front of her.

_…she has to be joking…right?_ Perry, though the look of seriousness in Isara dispelled those thoughts, _she's… she's actually serious about this?_

Alicia then burst, "I'm Sorry!" she turns away, "I just wanted a change of pace! I'm so sorry!"

Perry looked around him; she was catching quite a lot of passing onlookers, American and Gallian, with this charade.

"Operation?" the tank commander asked.

"The one to retake Vassel Bridge," Isara explained, "The truth is, it's my fault that my brother had to make a difficult promise to our Squad."

"I see," the tank commander mused, "So that's why Alicia's so worried."

Alicia shot up to object, "That… That's not it…"

"Hey, no shame in that Miss Sergeant," Monaco, going over to Alicia, "We were pretty much freaked out about this too."

"Are you guys that scared over my brother?" Isara.

"Sca… huh… of Welkin?" Alicia, unable to find a appropriate answer.

"You can say that," Lobel, "Who wouldn't be afraid of a career ass-hole who likes making impossible bets?"

Isara frowned, glaring at Lobel "I know he could be a bit strange and stubborn at times, but he's not a 'career ass-hole' as you put it."

"I meant no harm Is, just joking around," Lobel, putting up his arms in defense.

Peewee jumped into the conversation, "You sure bout that? Cause you didn't look like it."

Lobel, "No one asked-."

"I'M-I'M NOT SCARED AT ALL!" Alicia, yelling out her inner feelings.

"I WAS A TEAM LEADER FOR THE TOWN WATCH!" Alicia then yelled out, as if trying to override everyone else's thoughts and words on this subject and beyond it, "I HAVE COMBAT EXPERIENCE AND HAVE FOUGHT THE IMPERIAL ARMY WHO KNOWS HOW MANY TIMES!"

"Alicia, calm down. We know how you-," Perry went up to her and tried to grasped her shoulders.

"IT'S NOT THAT I'M AFRAID!" she yelled at Perry's face, she's on the verge of crying, "and even up till now… all… the time…"

She stopped as soon as she saw everyone staring at her; even onlookers had stopped in their tracks to listen.

"…," she jus stood there, embarrassed and distressed, "I'M GOING TO DIG UP MORE DIRT!" And just like that, she started sprinting away.

"Alicia!?" Isara called out.

Monaco, worried that Welkin's insane bet with Largo has thrown her over the edge, chased after her, "Goddammit! You're our fucking Platoon Sergeant for God's sake!" he was about to say something along the lines as _we can't have you freaking out on us_, but is too out of breath already to say it.

She didn't run far however, she bumped into a certain tank commander running his way back to the docks to outline his plans. Another lieutenant, in olive drab BDU with his netted helmet, wasn't even running, just calmly walking back to were his Squad was stationed, looking over a Vassel city map while at it.

It happened so suddenly, a three way collision that sent all three on their backs.

"…shit… Watch where you're damn…" Gearhart, still holding on to the map, realized who he was cussing out, "Oh, it's you guys."

"Gearhart, Alicia! Glad I found you!" Welkin greeted with the grace of a child, "I found a way for the Edelweiss to cross!"

"What…?" Alicia confused as to what he said, "What're you…"

"I found a way for the Edelweiss to cross the canal!" he repeated joyfully.

"But… the river's too deep for a-," Alicia.

"Not where there's Mistlereed," Welkin explained.

Monaco, gasping for breath, "……w-what's Mistlereed?" was both listening to the exchange and gasping for breath at the same time, "i-is it some plant… that grows on… shallow water… something?"

"Correct," Welkin, he took out his city map and pointed at the canal "If you look at the river's vegetation, you'll see where the river is shallow, and the good thing is that I found the perfect spot west of here to cross."

"Wow… that's pretty ingenious is you ask me," Lobel, he and the others caught up when they saw the collision, "Maybe we'll get through this just fine."

Isara went to help Welkin up while the tank commander helped Alicia.

"So that's how you're crossing over?" the Tank Commander asked as he smiled, "That's pretty smart thinking, but how'd you suppose to water proof the tank?"

Isara answered for Welkin, "I think I can fix it up to do just that Faldio."

"Tanks going underwater?" Peewee thought out loud, "Now that's a first." he's oblivious to the fact that there are tanks that have this capability.

"Well if it works, it's good enough for me," Perry.

"Not that it would be needed," Gearhart said, as if mentioning something, "We have the US 4th Armored Cavalry and 1st Armored Calvalry helping us, their tanks float."

"What, really!? Isara, who has never seen a working tank float on water as of yet.

"I did hear something like that from one American Colonel…" he thought for a bit, then saw the American advisors in front of him, "Oh! I haven't introduced myself yet… I'm Faldio Landzaat, 1st Lieutenant of Squad 1 and friends to yours truly," he pointed toward the two, Alicia still looking muddied and Welkin looking like he just got off the nature trail.

Once again, the advisors finding it annoying now, they introduced each other.

"Well, now that's settled," Gearhart, "Let's tell Capt. Varrot of our new plan… granted if we could find her in this mess."

Peewee asked Faldio if they knew where they were exactly, which Faldio said no but guesstimated that they were a couple of blocks away from the canal or so. While they made their way, Welkin walked side by side with Alicia and said confidently:

"With things turning out as they are, I'm not afraid… believe in me... in us."

"… Welkin," Alicia, a little while ago couldn't quite believe what was gong on found her muddied face blushing, "I-I'm not afraid."

Now going their way, they did not know of a stalker hiding amongst the passing crowds, searching for a story, the reporter already embedded with Squad 7.

_I'm looking for a hero maybe a group of heroes_, the stalker thought as she read her newly scribbled notes, _a group of heroes that will save my manuscript and his homeland from an unwanted war. But what I'd like the most is…_

She sat up and made her way to the docks, _a passionate love that can bloom during war. _

Ellet, the blonde specs wearing reporter, thought out loud, "I wonder, if that's a little too over the top…"

!!!

**Next Chapter: Chapter 6**

** Rowboat Landings and other Short Stories**

!!!

**Author's Note: **So that's it for now, within a week I'll have the other story up, then I'll take a few days of break and then write again.

As usual, if there is any fault with character traits (like Vyse, Fina, and Aika) or just want me to focus on one or a group, don't hesitate to call. (Though I may not be able to do so the next chapter, I'll be able to do it on the chapter after, within the confines of the Kloden Underwood to be exact).

Any tips would be helpful too!

Off Topic: You'd see the new anime for Fullmetal Alchemist!? Yay!!! Also saw the Senjou no Valkyria anime! Hoping for more of it.

**Fanfic Requests: **I request a Fullmetal Alchemist X Valkyria Chronicles fanfic and a Battlefield Bad Company X Valkyria Chronicles Fanfic.

!!!


	6. Rowboat Landings and Other Short Stories

**Author's Notes/Disclaimer: **Dang… this is one long chapter right here (about thirty pages in my word document). It took me almost five days but I'm finished at least.

I'm continuing to follow the manga adaptation of the game, but I'm running out of chapters. I'll either return to the game version or use any manga related material (if anyone has it… even the Yaoi "Wish Your Smile" manga would help) given or told to me in summary or something.

**To Hurricane's Quill:** I'm glad you had a chance to play it, hopefully I'll have one before BC2 comes out (in 2010), hope you do a Bad Company/Valkyria crossover; I'm also curious on how the Yu-gi-ho/Valkyria parody would work…

**To Dark Knight Gafgar:** Yes, it gives us more reason to hate Darcsen haters (though I don't know about Rosie yet… and her attitude that Darcsens are weak people).

Though I cringe at the thought of shoving one of my men under the wake of Maxi's big battleship, I think I could think of one to sacrifice for the splintered horn *cough*Cezarasshole*cough*.

I'm also going to introduce Selvaria on the next chapter… wait a sec, the Imps can't really retreat without _some _form of cover from the bombers….

**To Ominae: **Maybe Kriess will be the one to invent jet propulsion someday… anyways I envisioned planes like the P-51 Mustang or even the Juggernaut to fly. But, alas, there exist no planes in the VC universe.

I would also like to see Bad Company guys, especially Haggard, in the VC universe.

**I do not own **_**Valkyria Chronicles **_**nor do I own **_**Fallen Angels**_**. They belong to their owners respectively.**

**War Stories Gallia**

**Chapter 6**

**The Row Boat Landings and Other Short Stories**

!!!

**The Row Boat Landings**

Morning, fog, on the canal's waters, all of squad 7 are on elongated rowing boats normally used by tourist. So is Squads 1, 4, 3, and 6 of 2nd Battalion, which in turn, belongs to the 3rd Regiment of the Militia.

They're the only ones in boats; the four American Marine platoons supporting them rode in inside their APC's.

"Why do they get to ride in on APCs," Rosie, mumbling, "and us on these rickety-."

"Cause their APCs can float Corporal," Juno Coren, irritated, "why not do us all a favor and keep your trap shut"

Rosie mumbled something, but didn't come out with a rebuttal.

The waters were as flat as they could be, so the boats didn't tip over or lift and fall as they did in rough waters, and the gear they had to carry, from the rifles of scouts to the heavy lance of lancers, didn't help things.

The amphibious M551 Sheridan, along with the Edelweiss (which should be trudging along underwater according to Ellet's info and later the LT's briefing on the assignment), went on ahead to clear the beach.

So they were just floating here, the Militia and Marines, with only the mist to cover them, waiting for the signal flare of 2nd Lt. Welkin… or the flare of the platoon Sergeant on one of the landing Sheridans in case he doesn't make it.

"I'm pretty amazed actually, how their tanks and APCs float," Melville Young whispered, one of the scouts sporting an orange Mohawk, "I mean, dude! Our tanks are smaller than these ones, yet they sink like a brick."

"I think it's cause of those tanks are made up of a metal called aluminum, according to that one tank loader I talked too," Alex Raymond answered, a shock trooper with a streak of orange in his cap cut hair, "the metal is lighter than the ones we use for armor, but that sacrifices it's toughness through."

"Is that why they were being blown up left and right?" Melville, "That's a pretty hefty price for floata-."

Perry, in a hushed voice, "Shut it, both of you! You want us to get caught or something!"

There was MG fire in the distance, followed by a bright light that shined high above them, a flare.

"Start rowing!" Juno yelled, the order was repeated down the line of the Militia.

The landing force crossed a third of the canal before hand, water splashed as paddles were made to push the boat along. The APCs, M113s to be exact, the Americans used roared as it's treads splashed water in its wake to move. Close to the size of a Sheridan, many a row boats beside them were cascaded with water in its wake.

"Dammit! Watch where you're moving!" Peewee, his team soaked to the bone.

Monaco felt likewise, "Goddamn Son of a Bitch!"

The exposed MG gunners atop it yelled back curses.

"Fuck you butt munch!" yelled the gunner closest to Peewee and his team.

They were splashing faster, wanting their paddles to move them quicker than humanly possible.

More gunfire to the front, a lot of it; One American platoon accompanying the militia on the first wave (the one yelling back curses) is to force and hold a bridge head so others behind them can land without risk.

They've were told that most of the artillery outside the city was destroyed by the air raids yesterday; they also had a spotter plane watch for anymore being moved in.

So there was also no danger of being hit by artillery while landing… right?

A whistling sound, it grew louder and louder… "INCOMING!"

A geyser of water blew high, then another, and another. All accompanied by whining whistles.

_Sweet Jesus!_ Perry was shaking pretty badly now, _I thought they took them all out!_

Alex, "Crap! I thought they took them all out!" yelling out Perry's thoughts exactly.

"It's just mortar fire! Just keep rowing!" cried out Juno, as she paddles ever faster.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better!?" Alex yelled over the artillery.

One of the militia boats capsized, sending their occupants sinking into the water because of the heavy gear strapped onto them. Another one, then another, one got hit directly and threw the occupants into the water.

Luckily none of Squad 7 fell to the same fate.

"We're almost there!" Alicia, she's on the boat adjacent to Perry and Juno's.

The geysers soaked everyone with water; the cold temperature of the morning, further amplifying the cold the water deals to their bodies, gave them all the more reason to move quicker.

"Almost there! Keep rowing!" Juno.

It wasn't long till their boats hit the soft mud and long grass of the other side of the canal with a wet thud, "Disembark!" Perry yelled, his order was repeated down the line of militia men.

Everyone jumped off the boats, some landing onto the mud, others into the shallow, cold waters.

The American platoon that went ahead of them took positions adjacent to the city, MG fire from both sides poured from both sides, MG teams hiding in the tall grass and American APCs with gunners on top to the Imp MGs that hid in windows and roof tops of the city.

In no time, Squad 7 found their Squad Leader atop his big tank, "You all know your objectives! Now move out!"

!!!

**Rolling Flames**

Perry's objective, which was also Lt. Welkin, Sergeant 1st Class Melchoitt, and Sergeant Juno's objective, is to take the Imp end of the bridge and secure it so the combined American Army and Gallian Maim Army forces can press through and claim the rest of the city.

The other teams in Squad 7 were to take several sand bagged bunkers that housed anti-tank guns, either that or destroy it.

Perry, taking cover behind the Edelweiss with everyone else, ducked his head to avoid the bullets ricocheting of its armor. The tank would pause for a bit, open fire with it's gun and blast something like a window or sandbag wall, pause again, then fire it's gun again, then either repeat or move on depending if they're still enemies fighting in vain.

Granted, there were American Sheridans, otherwise called an Armored Airborne Reconnaissance Assault Vehicle (AARAV), moving into the city too, they fired their 155mm guns and devastated any cover that the Imps dared to use. The little tank, however, had a firing rate of one to two shells per minute, thanks to the use of case less shells and air vents. There would also be unused propellant charges left by said shells, if a spark managed to touch that…

Elements from Squad 7 broke away from their tank in search of their objectives, only Perry's team backed up the Edelweiss.

"Watch for lancers!" Juno yelled.

"Don't let them touch the Tank!" Alicia.

Already there was lance fire coming from the second floor window above them, two shots were made dangerously close to the tank, shooting up cobblestone but not harming anyone.

The tank that Welkin occupied fired a round into a building ahead.

"Second floor!" Perry yelled.

Alex, with his SMG, fired on the second story window on the building, as did the other shock troopers Rosie and Wendy. The bullets shattered what was left of the window and tore away brick and mortar, but they otherwise missed the two lancers and instead drove them back.

"Awww… I missed," Wendy, the blonde pouted.

"Aren't we supposed to clear it?" Rosie asked the three Noncommissioned officers (Perry, Alicia, and Juno).

Alex answered, "We don't have the time, do we?"

"Our objective is the Vassel Bridge," Juno, her body cold and wet but that didn't stop her, "Let the Squads behind us clear them out!"

The tank fired again, this time into a rooftop of an Inn, while Team 7/1 poured SMG and rifle fire into the enemy in front.

"It's your call lady!" Rosie yelled, over the booms and din of war.

They moved.

"There they are!" Hermes yelled as he swiveled around, gun at the ready.

He and everyone else fired into the windows behind them, not giving the two lancers any chance to fire on the Edelweiss's two exposed radiators. They fired into the windows, one of the Imp lancer's armor covered head shredded to pieces before he could take cover.

Other soldiers, just off the landings, moved in and began clearing the building. Gunfire and grenade explosions abound inside.

Perry looked left of the intersection as his team plus tank went through, one of the Sheridan tanks, after firing a round from its main gun, blew up its back side. The infantry taking cover behind it got caught in the fiery, almost lava like, blaze.

He didn't have time to contemplate before they were gone from view, he didn't have the luxury either.

A sudden ambush, they hit both of sides of the squad from the second floor, it's a textbook clusterfuck.

"Into the buildings NOW!" yelled Juno Coren, her beautiful face dirtied by the gravel and cobblestone shot up by their lancers as well as their light machineguns. She took one half of the team into the left building.

"MOVE, MOVE, GODDAMNED IT!" Perry yelled out, taking half of the team into the second building being led by Alicia.

The Edelweiss back tracked as it got pelted by lancer fire, the rockets explosion washed over the tanks armor, some even bouncing off its slanted armor. It's like it wasn't taking any damage at all.

"That's one hell of a tank!" Rosie yelled out.

"Dammit quit touching me there!" yelled Theold, grabbing hold of his right arm as the new medic, Fina, tried to help him.

"Look just calm down and let me disinfect it!" the Blondie said in irritation, she took a wet piece of cotton, probably alcohol, and dabbed at his wound more.

Theold, the blonde Elves lookalike according to Monaco, winced at the pain but otherwise kept quiet; Fina then wrapped the wound in bandages then, from her mechanical box, she took out an electrode and placed it on the bandage, "Alright, just hold still and this'll be over in a flash."

Perry was almost transfixed on what Fina was doing, interested in how this device worked, even though there was MG fire coming down the stairs in an adjacent room and his focus should be over there.

A boom, the house shook and dust came down on top their heads. Theold cried out in pain, a blue flash. For a moment, Perry thought that the house was going to collapse.

When Perry regained him self, he looked toward Theold and saw him get up.

"You should be moved to the rear, you know that?" Fina advised.

Theold, "Not a chance," he hefted his rocket launching lance with his injured arm like it was never hit.

There was a blue explosion, knocked down the walls separating them from the adjacent room. It deafened them, and hit all of them with debris.

Perry was on the ground, he lost consciousness for a bit; when he came to Fina was over him, yelling at him. His ears couldn't pick up what she was saying till a moment later, "SLAP MY KNEES IF YOU"RE ALRIGHT!"

He slapped her knees, "CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" he yelled.

"I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THAT!" she then went to help others still down from the grenade. She's still trying to recover yet she's helping people.

Perry took notice of the men around him (and women), Hermes was knocked unconscious in the other room, Rosie was dragging him away from the tracers raining down the stairs, Alicia is with her, and Fina was already all over Hermes.

"Grenades are no good!" yelled Rosie over the Sound of MG fire, "Any other ideas!"

Alicia, holding Hermes legs while Fina held his back (and simultaneously holding the briefcase machine) "Theold, lance that MG!"

Theold muttered something and smiled; his voice inaudible with the noise of the MG firing. Perry and Rosie followed him to the opening. There was a distinct sound of a rifle shot from somewhere over the bangs and din of war, the MG stopped firing suddenly. Perry was nearest to the opening, with Rosie and Theold stacked up behind him.

He pointed to Rosie and gave her the hand signal for a grenade then pointed with his thumb to the stairs, she held up her left hand with the trigger finger and thumb in a circle with the other three fingers extended, which meant she got the message.

He turned to Theold and signaled him to use his rocket launcher, or lance as it's called here, once the grenade goes off. He returned the same signal as Rosie.

Perry lifted up a left fist and brought it down, the signal to hurry up.

Rosie pulled the pin of her grenade, waited a few seconds, and tossed it in. It blew before it hit the upstairs floor.

There wasn't any reaction from upstairs for some reason as Theold moved in and fired his lance rocket from the hip. The resulting impact destroyed the wall upstairs and showered him with wood, mortar, and masonry.

Perry and Rosie didn't hesitate; they rushed upstairs with the grace of stomping elephants and sprayed anything that looked like a person… Rosie wasted half a clip while Perry fired off a couple of bursts. Theold rushed in behind but didn't bother to fire his revolver.

The walls upstairs were obliterated, leaving the rooms exposed, splintered beds and other furniture about, pieces of wall and ceiling here and there, and a lot of dead Imps in their armor lying around in their own blood.

No one was alive.

"Well, that's a waste of a good rocket," muttered Theold.

Rosie, "Guess the tanks did the work for us."

"And our sniper mopped up after," added Perry.

Perry noticed Catherine, the middle aged looking lead sniper, in the other building, resting her rifle on the ruined wall and fire off a round; Juno's with her, pointing out targets with her binoculars. He looked were she was shooting at, a sand bagged bunker at the northern entrance of the Vassel Bridge.

There were six hooch sized sand bagged bunkers housing machine guns and heavy mortars, three line one side of the road while the others lined the other side. Looking partially destroyed and weak, it looked like it belonged to the Gallians before they were overrun. They lay in a five lane sized cobblestone pathway.

He saw two hits on the bunkers, knocking some of the sandbagged walls down. The enemy returned fire with an unseen anti tank gun, it destroyed one of tanks.

A sound of thunder roared overhead.

Perry got on his back pack radio, a burden to carry but useful, and radioed Welkin, "Edelweiss 7/1 this is 7/1 Alpha!"

"This is Edelweiss 7/1, what's your status?" said a young man's voice through the static, 2nd Lieutenant Welkin

"We have one injured but everyone else is go, 10-20 is the building to your right with the rest on the left, over!"

Far off explosions, somewhere in the city, the number grew with each passing second as the sounds of war played on.

"10-4," replied the LT.

"Edelweiss 7/1, if you want I can call down an air strike on the bridgehead!" Perry yelled; he saw Catherine and Juno in the adjacent building, its rooms also exposed, fire a shot from her concealment, and then shove Juno away and duck for cover as MG fire filled the room she was in with bullets, tracers, and holes.

The ground floor of that same building returned fire; the Edelweiss did the same with its coaxial guns and main gun.

"…affirmative, but tell them not to destroy the bridge," Welkin said, his tank gun bellowed flame as it fired on the sandbagged bunkers ahead, "Edelweiss 7/1 out!"

_Alright, now that I have permission_, Perry changed the frequency on his radio and called in, "This is Squad 7/1 to Air Support, I need a air strike on my position-," he yelled out the coordinates.

An 88mm anti-tank gun, hidden somewhere in the sandbagged emplacements, hit the Edelweiss, right in the treads. It's now immobile.

The radio rang out, "This is Mobius 1, affirmative. Twelve miles out bearing one-zero-five, stand by for napalm."

A thundering sound, with each second it grew louder and louder, "Pickle!" said the pilot through the radio.

Before Perry's eyes, and anyone else watching, the majestic slick looking piece of flying machinery lifted it's nose upward and flew high as one of it's under wing pylons released a bomb. There was MG fire trying to take it down, tracers flew passed it and slowed with each passing altitude meter.

The sandbagged emplacement in front of them burst into a firestorm which length is from somewhere down the street, right to the bridgehead itself.

The flames sucked the air from them; the intense heat invaded and overran them.

They're too close!

!!!

**Sandbagged Alamo**

"FRAG OUT!" Largo yelled, him, Hannes, Jane, and Dorothy hurled grenades into the sandbagged bunkers sitting in the middle of an intersection.

The grenades boomed… screams of pain inside; a lone Imp stumbled out and wildly sprayed everything in front with his SMG, Freesia knifed him in the back to silence him.

"Clear it!" ordered Largo, the shock troopers went in first. A gunfight ensued.

The scouts went in after, Freesia, Montley, and Ted, to help secure the injured Imps with hand cuffs and provide some fire support if the Shocks if they needed it.

There were grenade explosions, more gunfire inside.

"Move in!" ordered Largo, he and Nils went in, one hand carrying their rocket launchers, the other a six shooter.

They were followed by engineer Herbert and Heavy MG gunner Johnson.

Oscar, the twin of the fifteen year old sniper that Monaco forgot about earlier, the one with an X shaped scar on the left of his forehead, split from the team before the raid on the bunker to find a sniping position. Basically he's the lookalike with the better health.

The smell of blood, gun powder, and sweat prevalent inside.

_Reminds me of Nam_, Johnson thought, his tall, dark, figure bent over and trying to not reveal him self to the open windows of the bunker.

The remaining Imps still alive made a break for it, Jane and Hannes cut down three of them before they could reach a bombed out coffee shop.

Jane laughed maniacally, firing her SMG at already dead bodies, "Weak! So weak you Imperial bastards!" Her dark back length hair and pale face gave her the look of a specter, "Didn't think it will come to this did you!"

Largo tried to calm her down, despite his big and buff size (not as tall as Johnson however) he was clearly a bit worried, "That's enough! They're out of this war!"

She stopped firing but still yelled unabated, "THAT'S FOR THE TIME YOU DESTROYED MY FLOWER SHOP!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," muttered Johnson, setting up his heavy machine gun on the northern most window of the bunker, "All that for a fucking flower shop."

"How're you holding up Johnson?" a girls voice, it was unrecognizable to Johnson without the flirtatious vibe.

Johnson turned and saw him self looking at Freesia York, a Indian looking Scout about his age with her dark long hair tie dup in a pony tail.

"I'm holding, Just wanna start shooting something for once," Johnson, ever since he's arrived, he had not been able top open fire with his heavy MG having to set it up first.

She leaned her rifle on one of the sand bags, "Let me help," she took position next to him.

7-2 Bravo's quadrant was quiet, while the rest of the city seemed to shake and sound with explosions and gunfire. Without all the fighting, it seemed the city's yelling in agony.

Despite that, Johnson felt a tinge of embarrassment of having her help him and had to look away to hide his blushing face, "I got it, you don't have to-."

"Then at least let me be your feeder," she said, helping him load a bullet from a belt to the MG.

"Be my guest," Johnson grumbled, gaining more control of himself.

She smiled, "well, thank you Sergeant."

Before he could reply, Johnson saw movement in one of the nearby buildings, the bombed out coffee shop. The other supporting this team, elements of Squad 3 and 5th Platoon, were south and east of them respectably. There were no reports of friendlies this close to the enemy line.

"Shit…," Johnson turned over and yelled, "Largo!"

Largo tumbled over Dorothy Howard and almost stepped on Freesia, "What's going on?"

"I saw someone in that building to our left," Johnson.

"You did!?" Freesia, she was ignored though.

Largo, "Are you sure? You're not just seeing things are you?"

"I'm positive man, there's someone in there," Johnson.

Largo turned to Freesia and ask, "You too?"

"N-uhhh, y-yes sir," Freesia stammered.

"…," Largo just looked at her, then smiled, "You're lying," he turned to Johnson and said, "Look Johnson, this being your first time fighting urban warfare you're just probably seeing things."

He pointed to the window, "You probably saw the wind move the curtains kid."

"Sergeant Largo, I know what I fucking saw," Johnson said with quiet but considerable heat.

Freesia heard his anger, "Hey, calm down buddy. Maybe you just-."

"Are you positive?" Largo.

Johnson, regaining composer, "Absolutely positive."

"Alright," Largo patted Johnson on the shoulder, "Freesia, your Johnson's feeder from now on."

"Yes Sir," Freesia.

"Johnson, pull security on this side of the fort. Be careful not to fire on our own guys; but if it's an Imp don't hesitate," Largo, he went to the other sections of the bunker.

At the moment Largo left, he saw movement. A common tactic used by Americans is to send a bullet down range to attract enemy fire to them, its called reconnaissance by fire. Johnson wondered if that would work against Imps, even though there was mixed results with the Cong.

Before he pulled the trigger, the sound of gunfire sounded to the south of them; that was where they last left the Marine's 5th Platoon.

"What was that?!" Ted asked out loud, pulling security on the west side of the bunker with Montley.

"That's where we left those marine guys right?" Montley.

The radio that Freesia carried, a backpack radio that Americans used out in the field that was supposed to be Johnson's, sounded out, "Weeehaw! We just took out a fire team plus, linear ambush style!"

There was static… then, "Oh fuck, there comes more of them… oh shit! A fucking tank-," from there it cut to static.

Just then, from where Johnson saw movement, a rocket was launched, careening straight for the bunker.

"ROCKET!" Freesia yelled.

Johnson was petrified, he couldn't move, only stare at what he thought was death. Luckily for him, Freesia knocks him down as everyone around him drops.

A booming sound, the rocket impacts the bunker just above the window where he and Freesia are supposed to be pulling security. He got his head out of his ass and started firing his MG while the city round them seemed to explode.

All the buildings around them are occupied by Imps, all of them had lancers, and all of them had machine guns strafing the sandbagged walls.

Bravo team opened up with their guns, but stood little chance of winning fire superiority with what they currently had.

Machine guns rip off long bursts, grenades blew dangerously close to the bunkers, SMG's and rifles bark, this is supposed to be a machine gunners battle with both sides trying to pin the other down. Infantry mortars fall around the perimeter of the bunker complex, luckily none of them penetrated it as of yet.

This being a machine gunners fight, Squad 7-2 Bravo only had one.

Tracers flew past both of them, Freesia and Johnson, as Johnson tried to take the enemy MGs out with his own. None of the rounds hit him or Freesia yet, but it was bound to sooner or later.

Already, there are guys in his squad yelling for a corpsman.

"Aughhhh! I'm hit I'm hit!" yelled out Ted as he grabbed his shoulder.

A blood curdling scream, coming from Dorothy, "IT HURTS! IT HURTS! MEDIC!"

The volume of fire suddenly increases.

Herbert winced in pain as he's hit on the shoulder trying to aid Ted's wound, "Argh… dammit," he still held a bandage to Ted's shoulder.

"You alright!?" Montley asked as he reloaded his rifle.

"… I'm alright," Herbert, despite all the carnage he somehow maintains the looks of boredom "This is gonna hurt a bit so hold still…"

_They're trying to pin us down, then rush us_, thought Johnson, he kept the trigger pulled on his weapon and kept firing on the MG positions ahead of him. For every MG nest he hits, two others fire on him.

It's hard to see, but Oscar, who took position a couple of blocks down, helped to take out a few of them. The fact they did not know the deaths of their MG gunners is cause of a sniper and not the enemies inside the bunker itself prevented them from changing tactics to suit the situation.

Then the inevitable happens.

"Gah! I'm hit!" Freesia yells as she falls clutching her shoulder.

Distracted by Freesia, who looked pretty bad, Johnson takes a hit to the abdomen, then to both shoulders, he only grunts in pain. He falls to the ground bleeding out.

"Johnson! Medic! MEDIC!" Freesia yells as she tries to staunch the bleeding with her short sleeved blue coat, ignoring her own wound in the process.

There was a bright blue light at one part of the bunker, Dorothy gave another blood curdling scream then fell silent.

Herbert comes up with a grenade looking device that looks part light bulb called ragnaid; he takes one look at Johnson, "… he's out of the fight, that much I'm sure of…"

"Well don't just stand there!" Freesia yelled, her beautiful face momentarily blotched by rage.

Herbert ignored her and went over to Johnson, "How're you doing?"

Johnson, now trembling, unable to move, his vision blurring, and in pain (especially where Freesia held her bloodied coat on) that seemed to dull with every passing second, spoke in almost a whisper, "… I got hit."

Somewhere in the bunker Largo yells, "Hold fire! 5th Platoon coming in!"

"I know…" he held the grenade/light bulb device over his wound, "You're uhhh… gonna feel a little pinch…now."

A blue light washed over him, a sharp pain overcame him and centered on the wounds he possessed. It was like he was taken to hell for a time then given new life, with his wounds all but healed. After, he's unconscious but alright.

Herbert tossed away the used ragnaid capsule after and was about to help Freesia carry him.

Before they knew it though, Americans in olive drab flooded in with their AR-15s, .50 cal machine guns, and bazooka looking recoilless rifles. Two machine gunners took position where Freesia and Johnson were stationed and sprayed gunfire into the enemy.

"What happened to our last tank!?" Largo yelled, his shoulder bleeding but he ignored it.

The lieutenant of the platoon, "Enemy tank got it! Where's Squad 3!?"

"They're trapped east of here!" Largo.

The lieutenant cursed, "We could use their fucking help right about now!"

"How bout your APCs?"

"They got all of them," the lieutenant.

Largo cursed.

The machine gunners seemed to win them fire superiority for the moment, as mortar fire continued to tear the bunker piece by little piece, enemy gunfire raked the openings and sandbagged walls, and rockets continued to dislodge sandbags.

Then one of the MG gunners yelled, "Tanks incoming!" just before the opening blew into sand, rags, and flesh from their cannon fire; all that was left of them is in torn flesh and an opening wide enough for five single filed lines to flood in.

Herbert, shaken but otherwise alright, grabbed hold of Johnson, "Help me get'em out of here!" he yelled to Freesia.

Freesia looked through the opening, to the three tanks with knight armored Imps behind them. One of the tanks, a light tank with three small turrets, fired a round into a building just down the street. They were trying to kill off Oscar. That broke her trance away from them.

Freesia jumped up and pulled Johnson's heavy frame into another room while Lancers Nils, just as tall as Johnson but with a stronger build and slicked back brown hair, and Largo ran passed. They were also accompanied by three other guys with recoilless rifles.

The new room also had machine guns and small arms spewing death and making a loud ruckus.

From where Freesia could see, the volume of enemy fire increased even more and looked to be pulling fire superiority away. The bunker rumbled as tank fire shook it ever more, there were reports of a few mortars breaking through, and there were also reports of them being surrounded via the Americans doing most of the fighting.

Montley, with a now pale but still kicking Ted, kept their rifles firing shot after shot while the Americans answered the enemy back with burst after burst of fire and long riffs of MG fire.

Explosions, northward, it sounds like two of the tanks bit the dust thanks to the anti-tank guys.

Jane, the only wraith looking shock trooper on this side of the now cramped fort, fired at full auto with her SMG roaring, "I AM DEATH! THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS YOU IMP BASTARDS!" She's somehow audible over the gunfire.

Freesia just shakes her head at her, while Herbert runs off to help other unfortunates hit and hurting.

The platoon lieutenant, whose leg is bleeding, limps over to Freesia, "GIMME YOUR DAMN RADIO!" He's drooling like a rabid dog

He scares her for a second, "Y-yes sir!" she takes it off and gives him the heavy communications equipment.

Another boom and another, the little fort shakes. A mortar breaks through in another room.

Largo without his lance runs in calling for a medic, carrying a wounded American on his back. Nils comes in being helped by two other Americans. All of them had shrapnel wounds.

"Everyone, I'm calling in a air strike! Take cover when it happens!" The Lieutenant of 5th Platoon yells, he then screams in the radio, "Broken arrow! Broken Arrow! I need an air strike on my position. Popping purple smoke to mark our location, hit all the buildings around us!"

More tank fire, the other room Freesia and Johnson occupied is completely demolished now, they're armored Imps with rifle looking SMGs running toward the opening. Ted, Jane and an American Marine go to the doorway to cut them down.

"DIE DIE DIE!" Jane roared, firing until her gun jammed.

The radio the Lieutenant's using sounded, "Affirmative, Galm 2 distance ten miles, bearing zero-five-four, stand by for bomb drop."

There was a thunderous roar in sky followed by an explosion, a rather large one that knocked people to their backs and knees and tossed people already on the floor A moment longer, another thunderous roar… followed by a bomb drop. The whole thing repeated four times.

Then there was silence, except for the roar of the jets in the sky, and the sounds of war in other places of the city.

Freesia risked a look outside, all the buildings around them were collapsed into rubble, there's the burning wreckage of three tanks to the north and two to the south. Bodies and pieces of bodies, in armor and naked, littered the streets along with rubble. There was a pistol here, a machine gun there, a rifle here, and so on.

The city continued its death cry.

!!!

**Mortars**

Elysse Moore, a dull-witted yet kind girl of sixteen with her dark hair tied in a pig tail and wore heavy lancer armor that covered her entire right arm (to protect her loading arm in case the mortar malfunctioned), carried the 31lb, 50mm light mortar as her team went through the ruins of Northern Vassel.

She's careful to not trip on the ruins of brick, cement, wood, and other parts and bits of building as they traversed behind Squad 7-4. Her partner, a brunette girl of eighteen by the name of Audrey Heitinga followed behind her, carrying the thirty mortar rounds with her.

Audrey panted and heaved as they quickly moved, "…I … only joined… so… I can have… a… chance… with…" she couldn't finish but Elysse knew what she meant.

Aika (an orange haired scout), Wavy (their Darcsen Sergeant), and Peewee (who's at point), led the way while Rosina (a Spanish looking lancer with short hair), Hector and Walter (the other mortar team besides Elysse and Audrey), and Nadine (an engineer and daughter of Wavy) followed. Cezary, the sniper of this team and all around ass-hole, was sent ahead to aid 7-4.

"Halt!" Wavy ordered, his thick framed glasses belittling his dark beard devil-sergeant look, "Well hold here till Delta calls for a fire mission," he then started barking orders, "Aika, cover the left; I'll take the right, Rosina, you take the front, Nadine you get the flank, Gates, since you have the radio you'll stay with the Mortars."

Everyone went to their respected positions, while Gates hurried to the two-man mortar teams.

"Alrighty then… guess we set up," Elysse said, her words coming out of her mouth slowly; she places the base plate to the ground as Audrey attaches the smoothbore tube to it. Elysse finishes by adjusting the bipedal.

As they set up, in the middle of an impassable street no less, other soldiers passed them by, blue Gallians and olive drab Americans, on their way to their objectives.

"You're putting it wrong!" the messy dark haired Hector shot at Walter as he grabs the tube away from him.

"I'm just doing as I was trained man!" Walter shot back, his big dark glasses hiding the pouty look in his eyes.

"Well they trained you wrong then," muttered Hector, "There, that should do it."

"Let's move let's move! They already called in for support!" Peewee, then he called out coordinates, "got that? Four rounds!"

Hector got his map to find the coordinates while Walter muttered something and looked awfully down.

Audrey did the same with her map and yelled out the distance, Elysse (albeit slowly) inputted the distance on the mortar, which had a max range of 510 meters (the effective range, however, is 50 meters).

"I need that gun in NOW kid!" Peewee yelled irritably, a loud kick in the ass if you will.

She put the finishing touches rather quickly then grabbed a round from Audrey and held it half inside the tube; Audrey held another round to give her with the bag of thirty rounds close by. They and the other team squatted near their relatively small mortars.

Though Peewee once said that he had no experience commanding mortar teams, he seemed and sounded like he did, "Ready, FIRE FOR EFFECT!"

Elysse dropped the round in, covered her ears, and ducked, the mortar, once fired, let out a deafening boom though not like artillery fortunately.

Right after, Walter dropped in a round and their mortar boomed.

Audrey handed Elysse another then she loaded it in and repeated SOP (standing operated procedure) for their mortar system. It boomed a second time.

That was followed by Hector's mortar.

As they fired, soldiers passed unabated.

Two more times it was repeated, then stopped because only four rounds were called in.

Silence for a while, then Peewee, on his backpack radio, called out another set of coordinates, "They need five rounds now!"

Audrey located the target on her map then called out the distance and direction.

Elysse, slowly and methodically, made the necessary changes.

"Faster buddy!" Audrey, already holding the two bound round.

Elysse took her time though, "Hold oonnnn… got it."

Audrey handed her the round and Elysse held it half inside the tube; the other mortar team beside them are already on this part of the procedure.

A distance away, a tank tried to get through but is deterred by Nadine and the ruins in front of it. It settled for a alternate route while the soldiers it was protecting went through.

As this happened, they waited for the order… an order that didn't come for some reason.

"Ummm… Mr. Advisor?" Audrey, seeing him to busy examining a nearby building from.

"Ah, sorry bout that… FIRE!" Peewee, giving up on whatever he was doing.

Then the process repeated again, Elysse would drop a round, duck under the barrel opening, cover her ears, the mortar boomed, Audrey handed her another round, and repeat for five times.

They waited another while, then they looked to Peewee, who was half listening to the phone that came attached to his radio and observing a nearby building; he turned to them, "Same place! Ten rounds!"

_… Were burning through a lot of rounds… I wonder if they're in trouble or something…_ Elysse thought rather slowly as she held a round half in half out.

"Fire for effect!" came Peewee's order.

For Elysse it was a slow drop, duck, cover ears, boom, load, drop, duck, cover ears, boom, for at least ten times. Elysse came to like this job and the sound of a booming mortar despite the repetitiveness of it all; she originally wanted to be a lancer but her parents begged her not to apply for such a dangerous duty. So she ended up with a mortar.

By the tenth round, Peewee called out, "They need sustained…," Peewee began to mutter to no one, "fuck what's that term that…" then suddenly burst, "FUCK IT, just fire off the rest of them!"

That meant that the team ahead of them is in some kind of trouble and that they'd have to fire off their last eleven rounds.

As they began the procedure for death from afar via mortar, Peewee ran off to Wavy's position and pointed to the building he looked at earlier. Halfway through dealing a bombardment, Peewee ran back, looking worried. The mortar teams didn't notice because of their job however.

The last mortar was launched, "Routes complete!" yelled Audrey.

Hector repeated the report to Peewee, who radioed in that they're out of rounds; he listened to whoever was speaking to him via radio. He then called out, "Wavy! I got Welkin on the line, he says for us to pull back to the bridgehead!"

They also didn't notice a fighter plane, a small one at that, nose down from a higher altitude, strafe the ground a ways away with something under its wings, and speed away. They heard something that was like mortars landing all at once, but had no attention of it.

A shot, placed a few feet away from Peewee. Everything, the noise, the chaos beyond their street, the running men and women, fell to silence. It's as if the bullet stopped time itself for those near enough to its impact hole for all but half a second.

"SNIPER!" someone broke the silence, all those passing ran into the buildings, whiles the mortar crews, and those protecting them, dove to the ground… all but one.

There was pump like sound, a breaking of windows, and the boom of a grenade at a building nearby, the one Peewee observed a minute ago.

Wavy came by, "Guess you were right Gates," mustering up a smile. He grabbed the phone part of the radio on the floor, spoke to it and listened, then ordered, "7-1 took the bridge, and we're to rendezvous with them."

While they got their gear together, mortar and all, Peewee kept saying over and over while pointing to that building, "I knew there was a sniper there, I just fucking knew it!"

!!!

**Where's The F***ing Air Support!**

**A Little Earlier, during the mortar bombardment…**

Inside a ruined building, which is next door to their target, a bunker lying in the middle of an intersection with small antitank guns and machine guns, Nancy called in for more mortar fire, "I need mortar fire! Same coordinates!"

Beside her, Monaco, the original owner of the radio, fired off his AR-15 in burst after burst of gun fire. The other scout Cherry, a blonde girl that likes to talk A LOT, is kept busy by firing grenade after grenade with her rifle into the bunker below them.

Upstairs with them is shock trooper Lynn, a Darcsen girl of twenty one with blue eyes and smooth hair dirtied by dust, fired off long riffs of SMG fire into the southern opening of the bunker.

The opening, which held a MG, kept sustained fire on the ground floor and has yet to fire upstairs.

Yoko, a middle aged woman in command of this unit, fired off her lance on an oncoming small tank. The rocket pierced just under the turret and it blew.

"Sorry honey!" Yoko yelled at the burning light tank in triumph.

"Mortar strike on the way!" Nancy yelled out, a twin tailed farm girl with thick round glasses and a blue beret that her late father gave her; thanks to her klutziness two nights ago, she's given Monaco's radio and designated a radioman.

Mortar rounds, one after the other pounded the bunker and the ground around it and far from it. The shells cratered the cobblestone street while the bunker seemed to hold strong.

_If we could just hold them for a bit longer_, she thought. Being the radioman meant that she could guess what the plan was based on what they said to each other and what they told her to say over the radio waves.

The plan is to pin the bunker down and wait till allied air craft, which left the area of operations to refuel and rearm and right at the time the plan was hatched too, come back and thump the Imps to smithereens. She guessed that much.

The MG opened up on the second floor, everyone dove down behind the weak brick walls. If the MGs sustained fire they might've been able to get them all but their shock troopers opened up and forced them to focus downstairs.

She could recognize Vyse's voice, which yelled something along the lines of how they should take the bunker or something.

Yoko, running to the stairs scrunched up to avoid bullets, yelled "NEGATIVE, EVERYONE HOLD POSITION!"

A platoon of marines accompanied them; they're in a building adjacent to their building. They did their best to pin them down and wait for air support too, which she told them to do through the air waves.

"Nancy, tell them to use all their mortar rounds!" Monaco, firing burst after burst into the opening to be rewarded with another flurry of bullets.

Everyone dove again, but as the fire returned to the ground floor they began to open up.

"7-5, 7-5, I need sustained fire on the same coordinates!"

"Roger, salvo on target; hang on tight!" said the radioman of Delta team. She thought it was one of the advisors and not Aika, who she thought was the spotter for them.

One of the northern openings opened up on the third floor building a couple of blocks down. That was Cezary's position, which he chose to shoot any escaping Imps should they abandon their post.

"Sonofabitch!" he cursed as he scurried away with his rifle to another room.

!

**Earlier**

Emile and another Sniper, by the name of Cezary Regard with his dark hair brushed forward and a tall frame, managed to sneak into a nearby building that took quite a few tank shells. They snuck into a room overlooking the northern section of what used to be a Gallian bunker. They could see the mortar fire land near and far off target and gunfire being shot from two buildings and a bunker.

"Alright, I'll set up here," Cezary, almost in an uncaring yet professional manner, "You go and set up on the roof, 7-4 and the Third should be inside the buildings next to the bunker."

"Got it," Oscar replied, ready to move out.

"Kill all that try to escape… and one more thing," Cezary, his rifle resting on a table at the far end of the room.

"Yeah?" Emile, almost out the door.

"If you see any Darcsens, don't give them back up," Cezary, focused on what's in his sights, "That's an order."

" ….," Emile, surprised at what just came out of his senior sniper's mouth, replied in a serious tone, "You're not my CO," then snuck away."

Cezary just grunted and focused on the task at hand.

!

**Present Time**

Luckily, Emile, who moved in with Cezary then moved on the top floor and holding a sneeze in, fired a round into the opening. The MG fire stopped, with it gone he let out a sneeze, _Maybe someone's thinking of me_.

_I hope Emile's alright_, Nancy though after seeing the MG fire stop; just then, a sound like thunder in skies, it's not the same sound like yesterday but it's loud all the same. There was a different sound too, the loud thumping sound of propellers in the sky.

She looked up and saw a plane; it looked smaller and a bit wider (due to the longer wing span) and saw that both its wings had a sort of engine on them. It was less impressive but she didn't hesitate.

"T-this is Bravo 7-4! I need a air strike on c-coordinates-," she yelled the coordinates as MG fired on their position again.

"Affirmative, marking target for fighters, hold position Squad 7-4," the plane relayed, the plane flew a ways away then began a descent with it's nose pointing to the bunker, "rocket away," the plane fired a rocket near the bunker and pulled away as heavy MG fire threatened to take it down (which was silenced by Cezary, who wanted revenge for being chased out of his hide). The rocket, now lying near the bunker, emitted a purple smoke.

MG fire shifted to the ground floor again, everyone upstairs unloaded; Lynn looked like she took a hit to her leg but she's too focused to notice or care. Everyone else just looked downright exhausted, especially Yoko, who's gasping for air and firing her lance at another oncoming tank.

"Where's that air support!" Monaco, ejecting a clip and loading a new one into his AR-15 assault rifle.

"I-it's coming Sir!" yelled Nancy, shaken by the blizzard of bullets that routinely strafed the building.

"WE'RE FRESH OUT OF AMMO HERE!" yelled a voice downstairs; Nancy thought it to be Mica's.

Yoko cursed in between her gasping breaths, "We… we're pulling out, regroup with the third!"

Monaco disagreed, after seeing at the rising purple smoke, "No No, hold on! Wait for the air strike."

"For how long!?" Yoko, rage in her facial features.

There's a thunder in the skies, not as loud as yesterday.

"Is that…?" Lynn, looking surprised.

"About now Ma'am," Monaco, looking rather confident.

Unknown to them before, the FAC (forward air controller) in the propeller driven plane was directing a fighter bomber to their location. The results of that exchange sounded on Nancy's radio, "Switches hot! This is Echo 3, distance eight miles bearing two-five-one, stand by for rocket fire."

Nancy looked to the sky through her window; she saw a small looking aircraft than the ones flying the day before and had what looked like a small hole at its nose (its intake).

It closed in on the smoke marked bunker, "Commencing full fire," the planes under wing pylon lit up, a sound similar to machine guns sounded throughout the city but it wasn't bullets it was shooting. Small rockets strafed the bunker with such a frightening force like mortars fired all at once, the bunker collapsed then blew.

The fighter flew off as it received new instructions from the FAC.

!!!

**Friends at the Bridgehead**

A long column of US Army and Gallian Main Army units traversed the city bridge and pushed their way to the heart of the city. The 101st and 82nd Airborne began dropping troops via helicopter at the sandbagged bunker sites around the vicinity of the bridgehead and began to push north.

The sounds of combat are heard, but from where Squad 7 was stationed, at the bridgehead itself, they felt relatively safe as the day drew to a close.

Lying down near his tank, Welkin lay resting and half-asleep. Knowing full well that they only suffered injured (who are all right now, thanks to the miracle that is ragnaid) and no dead he rested with no conscious problems.

"I brought you a towel Welkin," he heard a familiar voice and opened his eyes, a happy looking Alicia greeted him with a nice cool wet towel, "Good work recapturing the bridge."

He reached up and received the towel, "Thanks Alicia… feels great," upon placing it on his head.

"Is it really that hot inside a tank?" Another voice, another familiar; Welkin looked to his left to see a sideway view of Juno with her short blonde hair and oval glasses, "You could have loosened up your shirt collar at least," she handed him a canteen of water.

Fighter craft thundered and sped through the skies above, no doubt on another bomb run. In the midst of this, Alicia and Juno shot unfriendly looks at each other, of course Welkin didn't notice.

"It's because of my military instructor really," Welkin explained as he recalls his past childhood and took charitable gulps, "If we didn't wear our uniforms properly, he wouldn't calm down…"

"When was this?" Alicia asked, more interested in this than their rivalry.

"Elementary school," Welkin answered.

"Ummm really Welkin…?" Juno, then she teased, "I don't think that he'll mind anymore-."

The three noticed two people, the big Largo and sassy Rosie, turning away as if they were heading in their direction at one point.

"HEY YOU TWO!" Alicia went from happy to serious in a matter of seconds as she followed them and wailed, "It was a promise! We captured the bridge within forty-eight hours! Welkin wins the bet!" She railed and railed, "You have to swear you'll follow-HEY, ARE YOU LISTENING!?"

Juno just stared at her, the wacky thing that separates her from other devil sergeants, then muttered under her breath, "You have a lot to learn Sergeant Melchoitt."

"That's enough, just let them be Alicia," Welkin ordered as he smiled.

"But-."

Juno cut in, "I think they'll be more receptive to Welkin now, so you don't have to go on railing on and on okay?" she explained as if to a child.

"Who asked you!?" Alicia, she walked over to Juno in a menacing way.

"Well, since you're our platoon sergeant and your behavior is belittling your position, much less your dignity and our dignity as a Squad, I felt it necessary to add in my consent, Sergeant," Juno mocked, her look pompous but in truth she was just teasing her like she's her sister.

"What'd you-!?"

"As I was saying," Welkin cut in, still lying on the ground as the two girls' ages twenty-two and nineteen looked at him with questions, "just let them be, isn't it okay since it's my victory?"

"Yours?" Juno, feigning thoughtfulness, "Isn't it because of the squad's effort that we succeeded in this assignment lieutenant?"

"Wait, hold on I-," Welkin sat up to defend himself but is cut off by Alicia.

"Yeah," Alicia, at once finding out what she's actually doing and joining with Juno, puts on a pouty face, "looks like we have a career type in this unit huh Juno?"

"I didn't-."

"We should keep an eye on him Sergeant Melchoitt," Juno, this time feigning anger, "If we let him order us around, he might get us all killed."

"What!?" Welkin's already up on his feet, about ready to panic.

"Let's go to Captain Varrot, we should tell her about this… career ass-hole to put in Staff Sergeant Gate's terms." Alicia, grabbing Juno by the shoulder, began to walk toward their Regiment CO's tent.

Welkin ran up to them "Wait! Hold on a sec-," he's playfully pushed back to the ground by both Juno and Alicia.

"Come on Welkin, can't you take a joke?" Alicia, laughing amongst the far off fighting, "We're just playing with you, jeez-."

"YO, MILITIA GUYS!"

The three, as well as all the Marine and Gallian Militia personnel hanging around, looked toward the street of slowly passing vehicles. It turns out the person yelling is someone taking a ride on one of the Gallian heavy tanks (which looked more of a big self propelled artillery piece than an actual tank).

"You guys certainly took it easy while we were getting tired of waiting!" The guy, a shock trooper by the looks of it, continued to mock, "We thought you guys would just run away under fire!"

"Now it's time for the pros to get to work!" added one of his companions, a sniper.

"Oh shut up!" One of the marines, "You're as professional as a crock spewing ding dong!"

"Yeah, like you shit-heads would beat us in a fight!" yelled another marine.

Then started a yelling match between Marines and passing Gallian regulars, which the U.S. Army and Militia gladly stayed out of but commented to themselves.

"There go the regulars… again," Ted Ustinov who is better now, hanging out with his friends Montley, Cherry, and Nancy among them, "Crossing over the bridge _we _retook."

"They're probably gonna take all the credit again," Nancy saying the remark a bit irritated.

"Even though they're the ones who went running in the first place," Oscar with considerable heat, he's cleaning out his wooden rifle and scoop.

"Well, we're going to be seeing a lot of this as the war wears on," told an Irish sounding voice, they recognized the person with the slim figure and dark-red hair.

"Miss O'Hara," blurted Oscar.

"They did the same back in the first war," she continued as she sat with them, the sniper rifle slung on her back being placed to lean on the burnt sandbags, "for every victory the Militia took, the Main Army would be given the credit."

She looked tired and sad as she recounted some of her experiences in her first war for only a split second, "but that's not why we're fighting now is it?" She shook off her look to take on a mother's and reminded, "We fight for our country and the safety of our homes and families, not for some God-forsaken glory."

"Amen to that," Ted.

"… Miss O'Hara," Emile, reminded of his mother.

"Now just ignore those thick skulled jarheads for now, got it?" Catherine.

With the officer and his two admirers… they just stood and watched the curse filled exchange between American Marines and Gallian Regulars.

"Pussy acting cowards!" cursed a Marine.

"Dumb-ass jockeys!" countered a Gallian Regular lancer with a lot of heavy plating on his right arm.

"Faggety ass butt buddies!" countered another Marine.

There's just a blank look on all three of their faces as they watched, Juno let out a sigh and commented, "Kids… the lot of them."

"More like tween adolescents," Alicia, scratching her head with an irritated look, "Some representatives they're turning out to be."

"They seem really happy," commented Welkin, sitting on the ground next to the tank, the tank crew went off to rest somewhere, Isara included, "In our case, we were just here to die for them."

He got up, Juno's canteen empty, "Gather all our NCOs, Varrot wants us to be ready to pull out tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," Juno and Alicia, before heading towards the group of soldiers that made up Squad 7; then Alicia stopped and spun around.

"Wait, where're the advisors anyways?"

"I don't-oh yeah! They said they're going to report to their own battalion CO fifteen minutes ago, I've already told them anyways."

"Got it, guess we'll just-," Alicia stopped, a sudden fear gripped her. She lost all strength to her knees and fell to them. She hunched over as if bearing a stomach wound.

Welkin and Juno, both shocked and scared at what could've have possibly happened to her, went to her, "Alicia-!"

Then a blue light shone on the far side of the city, darkening the skies before they returned to normal.

A fighter squad, F-4s to be exact, flew low at about five-hundred feet and made a considerable thunder as they began a bombing run.

Another blur light darkened the sky, this time it pierced the sky like a never ending spear. It emitted a beautiful noise, like a violin playing only one note endlessly, and cut three planes in a slashing motion, like a sword. The two other planes veered off course and sped away.

"What the fuck was that!?"

"That blue light… ragnite?"

"No… it's different."

"I-i-it took out three of our birds in fucking seconds!"

The soldiers around them talked excitedly and with fear. Soon the column entering via the bridge sped by faster like a rushing river.

"2nd and 5th Platoons get the fuck up and help them, MOVE!" The Marines crowding the sides of the street got into gear and gathered their weapons to join what fight lay ahead of them.

"Squad 4 and 5! Rally and Catch up with the Regulars!" Some militia from a different Regiment went and did the same.

"What was that just now?" Juno, terrified and amazed at what she just saw.

"Juno, get a medic here fast!" Welkin, too concerned about his now unconscious platoon sergeant.

!!!

**A Warning Given…**

Alicia woke from her unconscious state, on the ground. The skies blood red, the buildings dead and rotting, the bridge collapsed, vehicles in wrecks and flames, it looked like a nightmare gone true for her.

It took a while before she noticed the bodies of Americans and Gallians strewn about, she let out a horrified yelp. It took her a bit longer to notice those of her comrades, in which she began to sob and cry.

She found Welkin and Juno, lifeless eyes and dirtied bodies and uniforms, embraced as if saying their last goodbyes before being shot to death

She found Cezary, the ass-hole sniper as he is called, facedown on the ground as if trying to run away before falling, on a puddle of blood.

She found Catherine O'Hara, whom looked like, at her last moments, trying to reach the Bielert brothers Oscar and Emile before death reached them as told by the trail of blood she dragged, sad and tearful in her lifeless state.

She found Aisha, a bullet taken in the head, sorrowful looking and looked like she was crying to be spared. With her Dallas, who shielded her, and Claudia, whose face looked like a mass of angry flesh.

She found Isara, Lynn, Nadine, and Karl, all shot up and dead. Karl's body is over Lynn's while Isara, like Catherine, tried to drag herself in Welkin's direction. Nadine still held on to a bandage and alcohol even after death.

There were countless other examples of death strewn around where Squad 7 took rest a moment before. Alicia's now bawling her eyes out, and felt nauseous of the gory tragedy around her.

**"The warning is given…"**

Alicia looked up, once again bathed in fear to prepare her self to whatever is coming, and saw a woman with long silver hair and in a black uniform that showed off her chest size for reasons unknown. Mirages, as if from a summer's day, followed her.

She has a drill life lance with a radiator looking device at its pommel, unlike the lances lancers used, and a strange shield strapped to her left. Her eyes, which are the thing that scared Alicia the most, are ruby red and lit with its own light as she advanced toward her.

**"If you and your comrades do no interfere with the Imperial Army," **she said, as if an uncaring person giving off a warning he felt should be told**, "your lives will not be stuffed out."**

With each closing step, she filled Alicia with fear and uncertainty. Her god-like voice served to heighten the dread of it all.

**"Even the remnants of a army should not be slaughtered to a man… even on the battlefield there should be some form of mercy," **she's right next to her now, Alicia weak and small and the women with long silver hair and red glowing eyes strong and mighty**, "Isn't that what you believe, daughter of Gallia?"**

Alicia, in her state of fear and terror, tired to sound out words with her sobs and panting, "…wha…who… are…?"

**"Selvaria Bles," **she answered, walking pass her, Alicia could feel some of the women's hair brush lightly across her body as she passed, this terrified Alicia as if it could harm her but she didn't have the strength to dash away**, "a Valkyria of the Empire."**

Then all fell to black for Alicia.

!!!

**More Authors' Notes: **and there you have it! My thirty page chapter on the ordeal that is Operation Spring Storm (in the manga). If you have any more info on the manga, please let me know via comments section. As always, please let me know if there the characters are off or if there's a story destroying mistake in this chapter.

Also, please recommend characters you like to see in the next chapter, as it is a blank slate at the moment (I might go to Largo's Vegetable Incident or go straight into the Kloden Underwood).

**Quick question:** What's Catherine's true age (I've heard 27 to 35) and can I have details regarding Juno Coren and Catherine's profile too (after the war)?

**Fanfiction Request:** Also, as for the fanfiction I requested (Fullmetal/Valkyria and Bad Company/Valkyria) I'll give you a few ideas:

-Ted makes a joke about Ed's smallness, he gets pummeled.

-Ed and the other alchemist attempt to defeat Selvaria.

-Replace Bad Company members with Edy's detachment (go see her DLC via Youtube)

-Have Bad Company screw up trying to set off explosives to destroy the Marmota

-Have Ed team up with Squad 7 to take on manga versions of Envy, Lust, and Gluttony

That's it for now. Hope you enjoy the story and write you later!


	7. Before the Vegetable Ambush

**Author's Notes: **Let's start with my comments first.

_To Hurricane's Quill_: I think it would be a good thing, especially with modern appliances like laser designators, choppers, main battle tanks, etc. etc. and about Haggard…

I could see him shouting for joy when Bles does her thing…

_To Dark Knight Gafgar_: Yeah, in the game Valkyria didn't have this ability. It's just something I added; and as much as I dislike Yaoi, I find myself interested in this manga due to the Edy and Vyse cameos I'm not seeing in the anime. Plus I need more material and ideas too.

_To Captain Apollo_: Let's just say its _more_ than a nightmare for now. I don't know about attaching Bad Company with the Squad yet, I don't know if I can handle the fifty-plus characters. That's why I want another fanfic writer to do it.

Then again, The U.S. military did attach entire companies to ARVN units…

As for the Air Force obliterating the Empire, the U.S. deployed only a few squadrons into the war as of yet. So they won't be totally obliterated.

Oh, thanks for the idea. I've picked out the perfect general to confront Damon too.

_To Ominae_: Maim instead of Mian, mind telling me where that mistake is? Plus how could I resist not putting that sequence into the story anyhow?

Now I'm just waiting for the second volume to come out, even a raw could help.

_To Anonymous_: Yeah, can't have this particular squad of Charlie Company without the other brothers here, at least in different Squads.

And to as why I'm posting late… my uncle came over, my computers spy ware protection went out of date, had to go to libraries to finish my things (story, college work, etc), and cause of my laziness. With the limited time scale I have, I'm really hoping I get past Barious at least.

And with that, please enjoy….

**Author's Disclaimer: **I do not own _Valkyria Chronicles_, _Fallen Angels_, _Father Brown: the Essential Tales_, or _One Shot One Kill_.

**War Stories: Gallia**

**Chapter 7**

**Before the Vegetable Ambush**

!!!

**The New LT**

"Why'd they make you a LT!?" Peewee, outraged at the set of circumstances given to an old comrade.

"Why not!?" answered a white guy a little taller than he and with a LT bar on his metal bucket of a helmet, "They saw how I did in Nam, they'd be crazy not to!"

"Maybe the fact you'd kiss up to Gearhart and Stewart helped a bit," added a Polish looking guy with chestnut colored hair. There's no rank insignia of any kind on his helmet, "Hell, your even doing it with that one other Militia tank commander guy that's the fucking same rank as you."

The group talked amongst each other back in Randgriz at past noon, having returned half a day ago from Vassel which from what they heard had been retaken despite the "surprise" that befell those who happen to be near the northern end of the city.

"Hey, whatever inches me to my next promotion," the 2nd Lieutenant said in an enthusiastic way.

These two, Walowick the Pole and Brunner the farmer ass-hole, had been with the five, Perry, Peewee, Lobel, Monaco, and Johnson, since Nam. They would have stayed together if they just sent the whole company as a whole rather than split them up into itty bitty teams to advise each and every Squad of the Gallian Military.

They would at least have Brunner, the white ex-corporal turned 2nd Lieutenant, if they somehow lost Gearhart before being transferred. Something made the five glad that didn't happen.

"Damn, do I feel sorry for whatever's under your ass," Johnson spat, "speaking of that, what Squad you in?"

"Me and Walowick are advising Squad 1," he said, oblivious to Johnson's temperament, "Led by a tank commander named Faldio."

Lobel recognized the name at once, "Isn't that guy friends with Welkin?"

Walowick, "Who now?"

"He's the guy we're advising," Lobel explained, "Squad 7 to be exact."

"You mean the guys with the mean looking tank," Brunner, looking surprised, "all we're using is a armored box car of a tank with a itty bitty cannon," he held two fingers up as if he were holding a peanut, as if gesturing to prove his point.

"World War Two tech," reminded Johnson.

"These things may look like shit compared to what we have but enough for this time period," Monaco explained, "sides' the enemies' killed some of our own tanks with pretty much the same thing too."

Brunner snickered, "I don't think you can call that light back there World War Two tech; it blasted three of our planes outta the sky."

Walowick wondered about what it was, "You guys know what it was? All the guys who saw it are either too messed up or terrified beyond reason."

"We were near the canal, same as you guys," Perry answered, well remembering the light that's said to have destroyed a brigade's worth of men and equipment as well as a third of a typical fighter squad, "and damn glad was there not to see."

"Now that you mention it," Brunner, scratching the back of his head, "There was this one guy at the field hospital; he kept saying something about some angel coming to get him or something… it's crazy."

There was an awkward silence between the six until Perry broke the silence, "Our Platoon Sergeant freaked out at the time, she's okay now… you think there's some connection?"

"Well, if I were her LT then I'd demote his ass on the spot…" Brunner said as a careless remark; all of them, Perry included, thought of it as a sound but mean hearted idea. He went on, "But the guy I'm talking about saw the light personally, he has the burns to prove it."

"He's a she, Brunner," Peewee corrected, as if taking an offense.

"Oh… is she good looking?"

"An angel… guess there's more to this place than meets the eye," Walowick concluded before turning his back on them and began to walk away, "We should head back to our Squad before Rings starts forcing everyone into a blood pact again, see ya guys later," he waved them off.

Brunner went with him, "Knowing him he probably bloodied up the whole squad by now; you know, I sorta feel bad for that twelve year-old kid that got stuck with him…," he left without saying good bye.

The five just watched the two go, probably back to base, disappearing amongst the crowds before going their own way.

"Rings… why's he sound familiar?" Peewee thought out loud looking up at the clear blue sky.

Perry still remembered him, he and Peewee met him when they first arrived in Nam. He tried to get the two and any other black guy to cut their wrists and make a sort of blood pact. Peewee didn't call him "crazy" for nothing.

"Poor bastards…"

Peewee, "What'd you say?"

"Nothin."

!!!

**A Darcsen and a Pole**

Nadine, a short girl with smooth dark hair and in Gallian Militia uniform, walked Main Street alone. She's on her way to get something other than the usual rations the military fed them.

The good thing is that she just received her pay check and the Squad had a day off, so that meant time to wander around town and maybe day dream a bit.

She rounded a street toward where the farmers market was, thankfully there aren't any signs forbidding Darcsens to purchase any of the goods but the extra high prices seemed to do the job just fine.

"Eight dollars for an Apple!?" cried out an enraged Gallian Regular.

"Don't yell at me kid, blame the Imps cutting off Randgriz's southern highways," scorned an everyday fifty year old farmer in a straw hat, "and the foreigners buying up everything else."

"Hey, don't blame us grandpa!" yelled one of the rear echelon bastards that come with every modern military, America included, this one happened to be a clerk.

She bought only the essentials, just a few vegetables and no fruits and honey, and started to make her way back to the barracks; well… she would've if one of her kind wasn't being harassed.

"You dark haired bastard!" said one buff looking Gallian Militia soldier in shock trooper armor, holding a Darcsen, a race with dark hair and dark blue eyes (there are cases of abuse against half breeds), "Instead of trying to rip me off you'd just better hand me them pears I wanted."

Nadine saw that man was flanked by two other guys, a smaller kid with a few plates of blue camo armor and a slightly taller guy with armor covering his entire right arm. They looked like they would be ready to jump anyone who dared intervene.

This didn't deter Nadine; she slipped through the two and shoved the grip of the assaulting man on the scared Darcsen farmer, who looked like he's in his fifties, and broke his grip, "That's enough! Blame the price hikes on the Imps not-."

The man swung a fist against her face, she didn't see it coming, and just collapsed on the floor. She saw stars but she just barely retained consciousness.

"Why shouldn't I blame it on you people!?" yelled the assaulter, "Since ancient times your people have been causing bad luck for us!"

He kicked her stomach while she lay in front of him, "We should just do like the Imps have been doing and wipe the lot of you off the planet.

Nadine, looking at her attacker, only able to see his outline amongst the high above sun, did nothing to protect herself from the next blow coming.

She could hear a couple of her friends, Isara, Lynn, Karl, Dallas, and a few others in the background as his friends blocked them from helping and as her attacker readied his foot for another kick.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THREE DOING!?"

The three of them jumped at the booming voice that overrides all the others, "Lieu-Lieutenant-."

The Lieutenant, a Caucasian American in olive drab, slugged the attacker right on his nose, breaking it. He landed the same way Nadine did, holding his hurting face as if it could ease his pain, "You're really asking for us Americans to shoot the lot of ya!" He kicked him in the balls, causing the Regular to grab hold of it instead of his bleeding face.

The LT's friend, a guy with a crop of chestnut colored hair and a bit shorter, threatened them, "Get the fuck back to base; we'll deal with your punishment later."

Nadine's friends started toward her as the aggressor's friends began to help him.

As the two bent down to help their fallen comrade, the American LT, in fierce rage, stepped toward them and yelled, "MOVE GODDAMN IT!"

The three of them yelped in terror and sped away at full speed, leaving a cloud of dust and debris in their wake.

Nadine, confused at the turn of events, felt the cold sting of an ice pack gently pressured against her face by Isara, Squad 7's tank driver and Darcsen sister to its CO, "Just hold this to your face Nadine," Nadine didn't ask where she found the ice pack, or if she had it with her all along.

"You alright?"

Nadine looked up to see the chestnut colored hair kid offer a hand to her, he looked a bit older than her but then just as young as she was, "Yeah… I'm alright," she took his hand and was hefted up (with the help of Karl and Dallas).

"Me and Brunner here'll make sure those punks won't bother you again," the American glanced downward to her yellow patch, "I take it that you're in Squad 7?"

"Y-yes sir," Nadine stammered; she's blushing now at this particular American giving her special attention while his friend helped the farmer up.

After he took care of the farmer, he reminded, "Walowick, ain't we in a hurry to save Squad 1 from Rings?"

The American named Walowick put on annoyance for a second, "…kill joy," then put up the flirty face he put up before, "Since you're in Squad 7 we'll be seeing more of each other… Nadine right?"

She nodded, too shy to respond; he just smiled and introduced himself, "I'm Sergeant Walowick of Squad 1 by the way," and disappeared, with the white LT, among the watching crowds.

She just stood there, too enveloped in her thoughts to do much of anything except watch. They were broken by the teasing and questions of her friends.

"Ohhh, Nadine has an admirer!" Edy, who was watching from the sidelines until the very end where she tackled her in a bear hug.

"You think those adviser guys know him?" Karl said, laughing at Nadine's sudden fortune after misfortune, "Maybe they can introduce you two again."

"I think he's just playing you," Dallas, her boyish looks looking rather scornful.

"Wait hold on, Nadine your face-," Isara, too focused on trying to get Nadine to hold the ice pack to her face.

"Yeah…" Nadine, at last able to pull her thoughts away from Walowick and to her current situation, "Let's… just get back to base..."

!!!

**Considering the Warning**

Alicia Melchoitt, a brunette nineteen year old small town baker girl turned platoon sergeant, sat there, near the Squad 7 portion of the barracks complex, just people watching.

_The warning is given…_

Ever since the Vassel incident, which riled up the higher ups on the American and Gallian sides according to what she overheard, she felt… scared of what she dreamt of… of that nightmare.

_If you and your comrades do not interfere with the Imperial Army, your lives will not be snuffed out…_

She did her best to hide it away and resume her duties upon waking. Making her rounds on each team; but when Welkin, the Squad's nature loving 2nd Lieutenant, told her what they saw… fear, uncertainty, and other things that do their best to eat away at courage, began to break her apart.

_Even the remnants of a army should not be slaughtered to a man… even on the battlefield there should be some form of mercy, isn't that what you believe, daughter of Gallia?_

"Hey Alicia?"

Welkin's voice, the person speaking in civilian clothes, broke her from her trance, looking back into her dreams, "Oh! Um, hey Welkin! You need anything?" She smiled the best she could.

Seeing she was still shaken, by her outburst no less, he got a wooden stool from nearby and sat by her to talk, "Ummm, you're doing okay right?"

"Yeah, I am," she answered as happily as she could.

"Good, good… no recurring nightmares or anything?" Welkin, as far as he knows, is the only person that she told about the nightmare, about the Valkyrur with the lance and shield. She told Noce, her dark skinned childhood friend, but Welkin doesn't know that.

"None at all… I even feel better that I did before."

"That's good, so you'll be able to perform your duties as a Platoon Sergeant?" Welkin asked, smiling as if already knowing the answer.

"O-of course I will!" She yelled, standing up from her chair as if slighted, "No nightmare's going to stop me!"

"That's good, the others won't have anything to worry about then," he sat up and began making his way to the western entrance of Randgriz, "Alright then, guess I'll see you later," he said like a child.

Alicia then saw a plastic looking box that he carried, "… bug hunting again?"

He turned and smiled, "You'd think I waste a sunny day like this not to go?"

"Typical," she faced palm herself but smiled.

"You want to come?" Welkin asked like a child would.

"Nah… I think they'll let me use the kitchen for once, you know… to bake bread," she lied.

"Suit your self," he shrugged and walked away, with his plastic box, in almost a sing song kind of way.

She took this time to ask the question burning away at her psyche, "Ummm Welkin?"

"What now?" He turned, ten feet away.

"Do… do Valkyria have… you know… telepathy or something?"

Welkin somewhat knew this question was coming, "If they did, then wouldn't it be in some fairy tale book or legend?"

"O-okay, thanks."

"That blue light's probably some new weapon the Imps made to counter the U.S.'s aircraft or something, not some big breasted Imp General Lady with a lance," Welkin teased.

"Oh shut up," Alicia, happy that her question was answered. She went her way as did Welkin.

But still… something within her told her that light, that she herself didn't see but may have caused her to lose consciousness, had more to it than what Welkin thought.

That and the nightmare even told her its name… a name of an infamous general within the Imperial Military, which she, Welkin, and practically everyone else in Gallia, save the Americans, knew of.

Was it really a nightmare, or something more?

_Selvaria Bles, Valkyrur of the Empire…_

!!!

**Cezary the Ass**

Cezary Regard, a silver haired young man about five foot nine, is in the process of teaching one of Squad 7 to use of sniper rifle at one-thousand yards, being a sniper himself.

"What'd I say about zeroing your scope!?"

That said… he wasn't doing a very god job at it.

"I did zero it!" Oscar, a freckled fifteen year old kid with brown hair, "It's the damn rifles! They're only effective at 'bout seven hundred yards!"

Oscar took the standard firing position of any Gallian sniper, Main Army or Militia, which is lying on the stomach (it's called going prone) with the sniper rifle supported by a rucksack. Cezary's in the same position but armed only with binoculars used to spot targets.

Cezary, looking irritated, shot back, "If fucking Marina can shoot targets at a thousand with this piece of shit than you can too! Now shoot it again."

Oscar mumbled something incoherent but obeyed orders; he took aim while breathing slowly. He centered the target, a brightly colored barrel with an Imp helmet, and then lifted the crosshairs, along with the rifle, above said target. He let out half a breath, held the rest, and fired.

The bullet hit the right lower portion of the target, if it had been a human target it would've shot up dirt.

"Hmph… well, you at least hit it," Cezary scoffed.

_Not like you can do any better_, Oscar thought while holding in his anger (seen through his irritated look)… which's on the verge of breaking out into a flood.

"So one out of four shots… your dead weight of a brother managed to score one outta three," Cezary, as they began gathering bullet casings, their rifles, and the rucksacks they used.

"Dead weight?" Oscar, contempt in his movements and voice, "Even though he killed over a dozen Imps back at Vassel… you still call him dead weight?"

"Yeah," Cezary, uncaring about Oscar's feelings, "With his sickness he'll kick the bucket sooner or later."

Oscar just stood there, suppressing all desires to knock this bastard to the ground and beat the stuffing out of him, while his so-called "instructor" walked back to the armory to drop off the poor excuse for a sniper rifle that was given to the Militia.

Once Cezary was out of earshot, Oscar muttered, "…jack ass."

"My, that's not how a young lad should speak," said a lady's voice with a weird accent that can only come from the big isles north-east of Europa.

Oscar did a one-eighty and instantly recognized the dark reddish hair and slim body as well as his lookalike with bushy hair with her, "Oh, ahh… Miss O'Hara, Emile, what're you doing here!?"

"Same thing Corporal Regard brought you out here to do," Catherine O'Hara said, "but enough about me, what's go you so riled up?"

"Yeah, is it something he said about you again?" asked Emile, holding his rucksack with one hand and the wooden sniper rifle with the other.

"Well…" Oscar hesitated, broke eye contact with the two then connected it again, "…he said you're dead weight, Emile," his anger rose with each passing word, "I swear one of these days I'm gonna have to beat fucking sense-."

"Now now Oscar," Catherine cut him off, she took a open slot on the firing range to set up as she continued, "Snipers must not hate, that's especially true for the enemies who just happen to be your allies… brothers in arms," Emile went over to set up his perch while Catherine continued, "remember the story of the Sniper gone cataract?"

"Yes Ma'am," Oscar acknowledged, he, his brother, and everyone else involved in the five day Militia sniper program were told that story.

Small story short, a sniper back in the First Europa War became one out of a sheer desire for revenge for the loss of his fiancée, who happened to be a combat engineer at the time. He was at the top of his class, and killed Imp after armored Imp and garnered himself a one-hundred kill count. He kept getting even for his fiancée till one day he missed formation; his superiors found him in his hooch, staring out the opening with a blanket over his head in an almost dream like state.

The orator of the story went on to say that he was medievaced back to Randgriz and recovered, and was about to be sent back to his original outfit (not as a sniper) until he was found by two Federation (a Democratic Super Power equal only to the Imperials in Europa) reporters and asked what it was like to see a human being die by his hand through a scope… needless to say, he went back to his dream like state (eyes dull, impervious to what's around) after his eyes darted one direction to another, as if trying to find a hiding space from the reporters, and maybe the soldiers that died by his hand.

After Oscar thought through the small story, he found himself face to face with the orator of that story herself.

"That's good then; you go on and have a good rest now," she patted him on the cheek and turned his attention to Emile.

"Yes Ma'am," Oscar, blushing a little. He got his rucksack and rifle and walked to that arms locker while Catherine and Emile commenced target practice, aiming for a target at one-thousand yards.

"Bro, just ignore that ass!" Emile yelled from his prone position; that garnered him chastisement from Catherine and pulled a smile from Oscar.

!!!

**General Gunther and Father Brown**

"Mister Brown!" Welkin, his civilian clothing covered in dry mud here and there, shaking the hands of a long time family friend dressed in Catholic preachers clothing like a child would hug a far too gone loved one, "It's been far too long!"

"Likewise, I see the military life hasn't changed your love of nature," replied the short stumpy priest turned Militia Chaplain, "That's good."

"I see you two are acquainted," Captain Varrot, her black hair tied into a tight bun and in a blue officer uniform, announced to all the Squad officers of Regiment 3 of the Militia, "Father Brown will be assigned to as our chaplain, please let your men and women know so they can go to him for spiritual support. That will be all."

Everyone began filtering out of her office almost all at once.

"We're going to need a priest once the Devil has its way over at Kloden."

"I need him now; I lost a lot of guys back at Vassel."

"Thank that idiot of a General for that."

The voices drifted out of earshot of her office. Before Father Brown's introduction, Captain Varrot outlined the plans for an attack on Kloden Wood's supply bases, which is feeding the defense line that the Main Army has been trying to break for the past few days. It also was the cause of Vassel Bridge being taken in the first place.

The Main Army Division there has no support from their otherworldly allies (the U.S. of A.), as they are helping the rest of Gallia's Military push northward from Vassel to the Naggiar Plains.

The plan called for the Militia to attack the supply bases all at once while the Main Army Division, reduced to thirty percent of its total strength, distracts the Imps. The Militia's 3rd Regiment is to move out two days from now, all except for Squad 7. They're in need to clean up a trading route that the Imperials cut off.

Walking out of the Militia HQ building, Welkin and Father Brown continued their conversation about life in what used to be Bruhl.

"I see your Father's tank is being used once again," Father Brown said, the two heading towards the mess hall, "It's good that Isara kept the thing in fine working condition; though something as unique and impossible to keep maintained should be kept in a museum."

"Yeah, though I think it could weather one more war," Welkin said in his usual happy demeanor, which turned sad as he said, "I think my father would want that too, even though…"

"Well, knowing him I'm sure he would," Father Brown replied sadly, "Gunther would be proud, though there is something that I must warn you," Father brown's eyes, which looked as empty as the North Sea most of the time, looked serious in his words, "Something relating to your father and the first War."

By now they waited in line to order their food (in the case of Father Brown, a cup of coffee). Welkin, his facial features resembling seriousness which is something that rarely develops unless for good reason, asked him to go on, "What about my father?"

"Let's wait till we're seated," Brown answered, "This type of talking should be reserved for the table, not a lunch line."

"Father Brown!"

Welkin and Brown turned toward the voice behind them to see a brown haired girl with her hair in two pony tails and in a blue Militia BDU.

"Alicia! It's been far too long!" Father Brown grinned, "You're still keeping those baking skills up to par?"

"I am, but what're you doing here?" Alicia asked.

"Wait hang on," Welkin interrupted, surprised that a long time friend such as his knew someone in which he hasn't met, "You two know each other?"

"Well, yes," Alicia, "He headed the orphanage I lived in, he's like a father to me."

"Oh, that explains it," Welkin replied, though wondering if he ever saw her all the times he went there as a young lad.

"Enough now, it's almost time to order," Father Brown reminded, as the three were almost to the cashier in the long line of waiting costumers.

It didn't take long for the three to find a table, a cheaply made wooden table with foldable legs that can be stored away quite easily, and they continued their conversation. It started with the Squads first fight in Vassel, and the almost legendary surprise attack that won back the bridge to Gallia.

Welkin kept quiet though.

"I see, God must be watching over you," Father Brown replied, after hearing that the Squad has yet to take any real casualties.

"It's a miracle isn't it," Alicia said as she smiled.

"Ummm Father Brown?" Welkin asked; the two in front of him were the only ones talking, while Welkin tried to think of a way to slip the question he wanted to ask into the conversation, "About my Father…"

"Huh, oh yes, I'm sorry I've forgotten," Father Brown apologized.

"Ah, I think I should-," she got up and was about to excuse herself, seeing that his subject was of the upmost privacy for the two.

"You can stay if you want to Miss Melchoitt," Father Brown, "This message certainly involves you, as well as the rest of the fighting Soldiers on all sides."

She said nothing as she sat back down, while Welkin pays extra attention to the half eaten sandwich in front of him.

"Now, as Welkin knows, I fought along side General Gunther as his body guard," Father Brown told the story through a sad, yet smiling face, "Normally commanding officers of his caliber were stationed behind the action, but in General Gunther's case he led the fight directly in front."

Welkin and Alicia listened attentively, "All thanks to the machine Isara's father created, which was part of those things that put an end to the stalemate caused by the slow and static movement seen in trench warfare."

Both Alicia and Welkin knew what he meant, the blue tank that is the Edelweiss.

Father Brown, "Like you Welkin," he looked on to Welkin, who is gazing, with sad eyes, at the cooling sandwich as if it showed him what Brown told in words, "General Gunther was an odd ball, he took whatever chance he got to escape into the wild, to observe some budding flower, or to examine the actions of a colony of ants through a magnifying glass; and being a General, we had to follow him on his constant quests."

Brown laughed, "He never did like that aspect of being a General," Brown's voice then returned to its sad state, "But as time wore on, that nature loving aspect of his slowly withered away… as did what used to be him, naïve and goofy. At the close of the war… he became cold, a mere shell of the great man that once was."

Alicia wanted to say something, while Welkin looked depressed as he gazed into his sandwich; Father Brown continued, "The death of your mother killed all that was left of him in the end."

There was silence between the three, as the ruckus and talkative sounds of the lunch room sounded unabated.

Father Brown corrected himself, "No, it would've killed him but…," he looked onto Welkin, "I think, you and Isara, the little girl whom the late Mrs. Malachi raised for about a year before her untimely death, kept a small part of him alive. You two gave a reason for him to live on… rather than commit a sin of murder against his own body."

Welkin, looking depressed, looked from his cooling sandwich too Father Brown's round, dull face, his empty eyes and said with deep sorrow, "I've already knew that much, you've told me before… but what does this have to do with me," he cast his eyes downward, "will I become like him?"

"Welkin…," Alicia, feeling a bit of the pain in Welkin's heart.

"I retold you that story so that you and your men won't suffer the same fate," Father Brown, he looked toward Alicia now, "Especially women, for they shan't really be fighting on the battlefield… as Catherine should know by now."

Alicia was about to object, Welkin about to question the role Catherine O'Hara, the lead sniper in Squad 7, played in the first war and how he came to know her; but the priest continued, "War has a frightening way of draining men and women's souls, and taking away what they once were; Belgen Gunther and I are a prime example of that."

The Priest chuckled, with a sad half smile, and spoke on, "The only defense against that, other than dreams and hopes for the future… and those at times come down to ruin at the end of the day, is to stay unified to both God and your brothers and sisters in arms, your surrogate family in a ways…though there will be times when one or both will _seem_ unavailable."

"God and family…" Welkin repeated.

Alicia blurted out a question as the little priest got up from his chair, "…Wait! Why should we girls not fight! We can pull our own too!" She stood up, "And you should know me enough-."

"It's not that you can't, nor is it that you don't have a good enough reason too," the priest stopped and looked her in the eyes with his own sad eyes, "It's just that you shouldn't."

Alicia, thought if it were any other person she would've retaliated, couldn't help but see the priest saddened with a heavy burden.

"You'll have to excuse me, I have to visit the other squad leaders to let them know I actually exist," the priest smiled and joked, then went his way.

Once gone, Alicia began venting her disapproval of her formal surrogate father, "The nerve of him, saying that women are useless on the battlefield," she crossed her arms and sat on her chair again.

"I don't think he said that all," Welkin, seemingly casting all of his sorrow away and resuming his up beat persona, "I think he means that women should be raising families at home rather than fighting, though I don't think that we should bar them from fighting."

"At least I have you on my side," Alicia smiled, finally grabbing a spoonful of the now lukewarm tomato soup she ordered.

"Well, why not," Welkin took a bite of his sandwich and went on with his mouth full, "you girls have your reasons for fighting so-."

"Yo Welkin, you the son of a hero or something?" the black red headed Peewee greeted, being followed his taller companion Perry, the orange Mohawk wearing scout Melville, and the camouflaged headband wearing Hannes with brown shoulder length hair. Ellet, the reporter who "monopolized" her coverage of Squad 7, is with them too. The food on their trays looked half eaten.

"Wait, were you all…?" Alicia.

"The table next to you actually," Ellet replied, "So you two and the famous 'Brown the Bold' go way back?"

"Of course," Welkin smiled, "He and my father were good friends back in the day."

"He ran the orphanage I was in too," Alicia.

Peewee added, "He a priest right? I should be asking him for a list of pray-."

"OFFICER ON DECK!"

!!!

**Abrams and Damon**

"At ease," said the two high ranking individuals.

One looked to be between five-foot and five-foot and half feet tall and in a green dress uniform with four stars sewn on his shoulder, signifying his rank as a Deputy Commander of the U.S. Military Assistance, Gallia. He had an oval face and graying hair, brushed to the side. On the front left of his green coat, were ribbons representing all sorts of campaigns he served in from World War Two to Vietnam.

The other, a shorter and wider counterpart, is in all blue dress uniform decked out in medals and a red sash. He had an even higher rank than the general advising him. His face looked round with a dark beard and an officer's cap. With every movement he made, one would think he waddled from one place to the other. He looked almost the complete opposite from the other.

Like the other soldiers, they waited in line for food and talked.

Peewee, "I recognize that guy, think I saw him in _Stars and Stripes _or something," he pointed to the American general.

"He's the general of the Americans here right?" Alicia asked.

"I think his name's Creighton Abrams," Perry explained, " He was the Deputy Commander for us back in Vietnam, the higher ups must've transferred him over here."

"I wonder what poor bastard they got to replace him in Nam," Peewee, "Anyways, who's the big guy next to him? Your guy's General of something?"

"Yeah… unfortunately," Alicia, frowning.

Ellet filled the Americans in, "He's the General of the Military, the head honcho of both the Main Army and the Militia," she explained as if giving a lecture, "That said, there are rumors abound that he got that position through bias from the Nobles."

"Nobles?" Perry asked.

"Yep, unlike you guys we're a Principality run by Princess Cordelia," Ellet.

"Under her is Prime Chancellor Borg, who is supposed to be her advisor but due to her young age, thus inability to rule thanks to her parents untimely and strange death, he's just using her as a mouth peace for his war mongering policies," Ellet further explained.

"Whoa… glad I live in a democracy," Peewee mused.

Perry then asked, "So, how bad is this guy?"

"He's the one that ordered us to retake the bridge," Alicia said, upset, "with no support from the Main Army of course."

"Just like you told us Miss Ellet," Perry.

"Must be glad we on your side," Peewee.

"There must be a better way to utilize the Militia, Damon," said a voice sitting on the table nest to them.

They quieted down, wanting to hear the conversation of their two leaders in this war. Others sitting nearby did the same as the ruckus of the mess hall covered their silence.

Now seated, the two generals continued there conversation, Abrams with only a small sandwich and coffee and his Gallian counterpart with a Gallian beer and turkey sub sandwich.

"Why not, it's the best way to utilize such a weak and under armed branch," Damon, looking and sounding arrogant with his rough voice, "such poorly trained soldiers have no use as a fighting force."

"That's where I must disagree," Abrams took a bit from his sandwich and spoke on with reason, "I spoke to the Marines who accompanied Militia 3rd Regiment to retake Vassel, they said those men and women fought even better than we did," he swallowed, he repressed his irritation with the aristocratic snob in which he was speaking too, "In terms of urban warfare at least."

"It was dumb luck, no more," Damon bit off another chunk of his sub sandwich, "I doubt they'll be able to repeat that success."

"Need I remind you that they fought off the same force that retook Vassel Bridge from your 'Regulars'?" Abrams, taking the last bite of his sandwich, "At least give them their due credit General."

"You forget that they managed to bypass the advance force you sent to secure South Vassel," Damon countered.

"They were overrun," Perry could've sworn he saw a vein pop on Abrams forehead, "The only reason they didn't hold is because your forces pulled out of the bridge gate before the fighting began."

"Alright alright, you made your point. If the Militia manages to win a more victories, then I might reconsider," Damon, gulfing down the last of his food and swallowing it whole, "Till then, they're better off leaving the real fighting to the Main Army."

General Abrams inwardly sighed, he and Damon sat up from there chairs and walked right out of the mess hall with their drinks, Damon a beer and Abrams with his coffee.

Before the left the doorway, Perry and the rest heard Abrams mention the thing they saw back at Vassel, "Anyways, about that blue light…"

"Man… what a career fuck," Peewee commented.

"I take it you ran into a couple of career pursuing officers yourself?" Ellet asked as she scribbling notes into her notepad from the two general's conversation.

"There was this one sucker who kept sending us out on patrols rather than the peaceful pacification runs," Peewee explained, "Just so he can make Colonel, a lot of good guys died cause of him."

"Our platoon alone was reduced to half of what it was," Perry explained, "Mostly because there are people back in the States… I mean the U.S. of course, kept burning their draft cards; but Steward was part of the reason too."

"That's unpatriotic," Welkin commented then admitted, "but I think I would've done the same if Gallia suddenly got involved with invading other countries."

Peewee then mocked him, "Then you're a peace loving hippie then."

"A what?" Welkin, raising one eye brow to question what Peewee just called him.

"A hippie, it's a person who grows out their hair, lazes around all day smoking pot and burning draft-," Perry just cut off Peewee there.

"Alicia! Heard something happened to you back at Vassel, you're okay?" Perry.

"What-oh! Yeah, I'm alright," she said, acting polite about it though the nightmare or vision, whatever it is, still bothered her, "I'll still be able to fight, don't worry."

!!!

**Largo's Love of Vegetables**

They were back were it all started, the R&D Facility where the remnants of Charlie Company were divided and made advisors to five different squad within a foreign platoon. There were tanks, jeeps, APC in every imaginable parking space, with most in pieces. Everyone that worked here left for the night, save two mechanics, and left the place to various Militia Squads to use as a briefing room.

To the Americans advising them, it seems like the Regulars can better afford things while the government left the Militia to make due with what they had.

With the two mechanics that stayed behind…

"Ya know? This tank virtually outperforms every other tank in existence right now. Even the newer models coming out of the Federation," commented a mechanic that seems to have his eyes closed all the time; he had on goggles that rested on his forehead.

"With an 88mm gun and a speed of 60mph, I wouldn't be surprised if it took out the more modern American tanks coming in," added a guy with wiry black hair and thick framed glasses.

They examined the 6.6m by 3.4m tank with a height of 2.7m. The cannon that extends from the tanks turret is over a third of the tanks length, and the tank weighs about thirty-two tons. This tank is none other than the Edelweiss, the very tank that General Gunther rode on to battle and ultimately winning Gallia's part in the last war; it now fall under the command of his son, 2nd Lt. Welkin Gunther.

"Well of course!" The goggle wearing mechanic replied, a pleased look on his face, "The little swimming Sheridans they're using could barely fight it out with the Imps light tanks."

"No, I mean the medium tanks they just brought in," the glasses wearing mechanic, "These ones are a lot stronger than the M551 Sheridans."

"But they're slow too, the M48 Patton's top speed is 30mph," goggles countered, "The Edelweiss has virtually the same armament but with better maneuverability."

"Hey you two," greeted another fellow engineer and tank driver, she has dark blue eyes and short dark hair, its Isara, "Why are you guys here so late?"

"Just talking about how awesome your tank is," goggles said.

"We're just waiting for Welkin," glasses explained, "We upgraded the Edelweiss with a machine gun on the hatch and an up to date firing calculator."

"I see, Dallas did complain about the Edelweiss missing one to many times," Isara, looking happy.

"Hey don't mention it; it's our job after all," Goggles, "now if only the LT can-."

"ATTENTION!" Alicia ordered upon Welkin's arrival; everyone, from the lowly Squad 7 scout to the engineer and two mechanics, stood rigidly straight, arms at the side, eyes forward.

Everyone stood at attention except the American advisors, who aren't so use to the formality as they were back in their Basic.

The LT looked confused, then said, "At ease everyone," to which everyone returned to their own individual group's conversation.

"It'll be awhile before I could get used to this," Welkin admitted to the 1st Lieutenant Gearhart, another American advisor with Squad 7.

"No kidding," Gearhart, "We don't really put up with this kind of formality."

"Then you're lucky," Welkin then asked for the mechanics, "Kreis, Leon, did you finish up?"

"Everything's fitted in man," Goggles, or better known as Leon, replied.

Glasses, or Kreis, gave a bit more detail, "The firing calculator and .30 cal machine gun has been installed Welkin."

"Thank you, I take it there's no other problems?" Welkin.

"None at all, no signs of it ever being hit in the treads either," Leon, "You father's tank is one heck of a monster."

"That's good," Welkin sighed, something about the word 'father' struck something in him; but he ignored it, "You two are excused now, sorry for the trouble."

"No problem, if you need better infantry weapons don't hesitate to ask man," Leon.

"It seems the entire Militia is asking for just that too," Kreis added.

Leon and Kreis saluted Welkin and then left the hangar.

"Alright then, Gearhart can you-?"

"We're already waiting Welkin," Alicia, standing with all the team sergeants and advisors around Welkin.

"Oh! Good then," Welkin, somewhat sheepishly, the continued to act professionally "As you know, Squad 7 is being sent a day earlier than the rest of the regiment."

"That much we know LT," Peewee, scratching the back of his head because of a mosquito bite, "The question is why we going?"

Welkin went to the point, "You know about the recent rise in food prices?"

"Yeah," Largo answered angrily, "its cause of the blockades the Imp set up north-east of here."

"_Vegetable Crisis grips Randgriz_… not a very exciting headline," Rosie pondered.

"But enough for farmers to blame the rise of food prices on us Americans," Lobel cut in, "I swear if another restaurant cashier gives me the evil eye…"

"Well in any case," Welkin interrupted, so that they don't go off track, "We're being sent to clear the trade route, once that's done we move on to Kloden with the rest of the Regiment."

"And we're leaving tonight right Lieutenant?" Everyone sensed a bit of urgency in Largo, a big burly man with facial hair. Everyone calls him "Man-Bear" for that reason.

"Y-yeah, we are but-."

"Alright I'll get everyone prepped, let's put the fear of vegetables into these Imps!" Largo, those social groups of Squad 7 nearby, like Edy's _let's talk fashion like idiotic school girls_ group and Melville's _How are we going to win over the Ladies here _group.

"The fear of… you high on something Sergeant?" Peewee asked in a mocking tone.

In a split second Largo's face to face with Peewee, glaring at him with the fierceness of a grizzly, "You mocking the power of vegetables boy?"

For once in their tour, Perry and the other advisors see Peewee looking _scared_; not of circumstances but of _someone… a person_, "Hey man-I was jus- what's your problem?"

Largo then went on to explain, as if trying to prove his point, "Vegetables are like bombs packed with all kinds of important nutrients," he raised a finger in the air like a school teacher would, "Kids like you have to eat them to grow up right… and the body's practically made up of vegetables!"

"Which are like bombs?" Rosie, face palming herself.

Johnson chuckled, "Man, that's probably why I hate vegetables," he turned to Perry and the others and pointed at his rear end, "Cause when I eat them, my ass explodes."

Juno face palmed herself in annoyance, "…kids," like most of the Squad, she thinks these "advisors" are too young to be effective NCOs.

Largo turned his attention to his younger black counterpart, "Boy how're you still going to mock vegetables when it has the power to give life-."

"Enough!" Welkin, once again trying to bring all his NCOs back on the subject, he took out a map of the trade route with markings of where the Imps are positioned and where the Regular Army are holding up, "Now we're back on track, here's the basic layout of my plan."

He held the map on a crate while everyone else crowded to see, "Basically Alpha and Charlie will attack the village they're hold up in," he pointed to the town in question, then pointing towards a road leading back to Imperial battle lines, "then Bravo will mount an ambush once they retreat while Echo provides supporting fire for both operations," he then points on a position a little farther from the Ambush site, "Delta provides rear support."

Everyone nodded to the plan, its sound enough.

Welkin turned to each and every American in Squad 7, "1st Lieutenant Gearhart is leading this operation, while the Edelweiss pulls security at a nearby checkpoint just west of the village; this also means that you advisors well take control from here on in."

To the advisors, Perry, Peewee, Monaco, Lobel, Johnson, and most importantly Gearhart, Welkin asked with all seriousness he could muster, "Will you be able do this?"

"Don't worry LT," Peewee spoke up with careless and carefree confidence, "We got this."

"We've been pulling ambushes all over Nam Sir, this'll be a piece of cake," Lobel affirmed, acting his tough sergeant part.

The other advisors nodded with everyone looking at them skeptically (they had their doubts after all), Welkin turned to Gearhart to get his approval.

Gearhart shrugged, "If they say they're ready… they're ready."

"Alright, get everybody prepped, we move out at 1900 hours."

"Alright then!" Largo announced, the whole Squad hearing him. He raised his arms and flexed them as he moved in a sort of skip, "Let's get VIOLENT FOR VEGETABLES!"

"Violent for vegetables… is he serious?" Alicia asked with a skeptical look.

"No, I think he really is high," Johnson replied.

Perry put in his two cents, "I doubt that, he's probably just _crazy_ for vegetables."

This prompts Peewee to add his two cents, "Like it's his crack… it's the sorta thing that gets him high."

"Shut up… all of you," Wavy, rubbing his temples like Juno did.

!!!

**More Author's Notes: **Alright, I'll get the next chapter as soon as. Episode 6 of Valkyria Chronicles should be seen in RAW form soon too.

You guys heard of the show _Deadliest Warrior_ on Spike TV? It's pretty cool; they pit warriors from different times and places and pits them against one another via some estimation program created by Slytherin Studios. The last show was about Yakuza vs. Mafia, and Mafia won (55 out of 100 bouts, squad vs. squad). The next one is pitting SPETZNAZ against the Green Beret, this one I'm _really interested in_.

Oh, of you run into any raws about the new VC manga coming out please give me a notice.

And as always, if you see any mistakes and characters going out of character please let me know. Also, if you want to see more of a particular character, please let me know that as well.

Thank you for reading!

**Fanfic Requests: **Still looking for the FMA X VC and B:BC X VC. Also interested in a… lets see, no Star Craft, FEAR's too brutal, Metal Gear already has one… I know! I want to see a Killzone crossover! With Knute as Hakha, awesome! Catherine could be Lugar, and Jane Rico. Templar could be… maybe Wavy or Welkin, I don't know.


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